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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



THE 



DESIRE 



FOR 



INTOXICATING LIQUORS 



A DISEASE: 



Its Causes, Its Effects, and Its Cure, 



WITH THE DANGER OE A RELAPSE, 



Together with Illustrative Sketches— The Good Sales- 
man— The "Would-be Politician, &c. 



BY. GEORGE 




u At the last, it biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an adder." 

Prov. xxiii : 32. 



Baltimore Printed by Sherwood & Co. 

1864. 



TLf C 






ACKNOWLEDGMENT. 



To the Rev. J. N. McJilton, D. D. ; Rector of Mt. Zion 
Church, the Author acknowledges his indebtedness for val- 
uable assistance in the preparation of this work. Without 
his assistance, he would not have been able to accomplish 
his purpose in the service he desires to render the cause of 
Temperance, and especially to the Maryland Inebriate Asy- 
lum, of which the Doctor is Vice-President. When the 
subject was mentioned to him, he at once declared his 
willingness to assist, by all possible means, the great cause, 
in the success of which every true philanthropist must feel 
an interest. My earnest prayer is, that God may bless the 
object I have determined to pursue in doing good. 

GEORGE MOORE. 
Baltimore, Dec. 18, 1-864. 



Entered, according to the act of Congress, in the year 
1864, by George Moore, in the Clerk's Office of the District 
Court of the United States for the District of Maryland. 



w 






V 



DEDICATION. 



To the cause of an Inebriate Asylum for 
the cure of drunkenness, and to all persons 
who are exposed to the temptation of drink- 
ing intoxicating liquors, especially the 
young, on whose behalf the kindliest in- 
terest is entertained, this volume is respect- 
fully 

DEDICATED. 

In the general, as well as in the especial 
application of his labor, the author is 
animated by the hope that, through the 
blessing of Go4> it may be the means of 
restraining some of his fellow-men from 
the abuse of themselves by yielding to the 
desire he has endeavored to delineate, or 
from the further abuse of their persons and 
families after they have so yielded. In 
consideration of the causes of the disease, 
which in the moral form are insufficient, 
and its causes, which are sadly afflictive, 



the hope is entertained that the propositions 
here presented in relation to its cure may 
be effective in the accomplishment of their 
intended purpose. 

It is the ardent desire of the author, that 
an asylum should be established for the re- 
formation of confirmed inebriates. Con- 
finement and treatment in such an asylum 
is the only method by which drunkenness 
may be properly treated as a disease, and 
its cure effected. To accomplish an object 
so desirable, it is the design of the author 
to contribute his means and labor to the 
utmost of his ability, and he indulges the 
hope that he may be sustained and sup- 
ported in this design by all who desire its 
success. 



INTRODUCTION 



In presenting this little book to its read- 
er, it may be proper to say a few words by 
way of explanation. In writing it the au- 
thor has had four things in view, all of 
which are subservient to one object, and 
that is to benefit, as far as its influence may 
extend, a class of my fellow-citizens, who, 
like myself, have been too free in an in- 
dulgence which is at all times dangerous, 
and not unfrequently attended with disas- 
trous results. No man can indulge in the 
habitual use of intoxicating liquors without 
the hazard of becoming a victim to his folly 
in the loss of character, of property and 
life. It were criminal in the voice of ex- 
perience to be silent while the evil is pro- 
gressing, and the souls and bodies of men 
are involved in the ruin it produces. 

The first thing I have in view is to show 
that drunkenness is a disease. The second, 
1* 



6 

to exhibit its causes. The third, its effects. 
The fourth, its cure. In illustrating these 
points, I shall take occasion to advocate the 
establishment of an institution for the cure 
of the disease, which is fatal in its effects 
of sending tens and hundreds of thousands 
yearly to a premature and dishonored grave. 
There is scarcely a family in this country 
but has experienced the sad effects of 
drunkenness in some of its departments. 
Many of them have been rendered unhappy 
in the mortification it produces in witness- 
ing the degradation to which it has re- 
duced multitudes of young men, the start- 
ing point of whose career was as promising 
as could have been desired. 

Since the breaking out of the rebellion, 
thousands of our youthful fellow-citizens, 
who were leading a peaceful and quiet and 
temperate life at home, have united with 
friends and associates in the army in the 
practice of drinking, in which they have 
continued until they were ruined. They 
have left the plough in the field, the store, 
the trade, the profession, the pursuit of 
every kind of business, and when far away 



from horae, and beyond the control of their 
parents and friends, they have contracted 
the habit of using intoxicating drinks, in 
which they have broken down their consti- 
tutions, and rendered themselves but the 
wrecks of what they once were. 

Stationed with their regiments in large 
cities and in towns, they have frequented the 
Lager Beer Saloons and Kestaurants until 
the habit has become fixed upon them, and 
they have believed it was necessary to make 
several visits a day, and at each visit to 
take one drink or more, expending nearly 
as much money as it would require to sup- 
port them, and sinking themselves lower 
and lower in the disgrace of drunkenness. 
Although frequently told that they were 
nourishing the viper that would sting them 
at the last, they have steadily refused to be- 
lieve it, and as steadily pursued the path 
of destruction. The wound, more fatal than 
many of the battle-field, has reached them 
in the drinking hall, and from its effects 
they may never hope to recover. 

Many a young man that would have been 
a brave soldier, if he had continued tern- 



8 

perate, has been converted into a coward, 
and so far from being of service on the field, 
lie lias damaged the cause lie should have 
sustained, and rendered himself an object 
•of reproach among his comrades, and a 
burden to himself. 

Young soldier, answer the inquiry for 
yourself, and to yourself : "Will you be will- 
ing to waste your money for the liquor that 
can do you no service, and may rob your 
country of your services by enfeebling and 
destroying you ? This result is inevitable, 
if you persist in the use of your cups until 
the control is complete over you, then 
you will assuredly be undone. Eeason with 
yourself but a single moment. Ask your- 
self what benefit all the liquor you have 
drank has done you ? Ascertain whether 
you have been rendered better or worse by 
your habit. If you have been worsted in 
the trial, the caution has been administered 
through your experience, and if you heed 
it not, and pass on and are punished, the 
blame that you can cast upon none but 
yourself, will surely fall most heavily upon 
you. Your place is in the ranks of the 



9 

array of your country's defenders. If you 
stand there, a young soldier, without the 
mark of disgrace upon you, firm, faithful, 
undaunted, in this situation of honor you 
may he noticed, and your patriotic devo- 
tion to the cause of the Union, may elevate 
you to an enviable distinction— a distinc- 
tion you may never secure while you are 
the patron of the Lager Beer . Saloon and 
boon companion of the men that linger 
long over their cups, and stupefy their sen- 
sibilities in constantly repeated inebriating 
draughts. 

Young man, if you are in the army, and 
far away from home and friends, and your 
associates ask you to enter with them into 
the drinking house for the indulgence of 
the dram, before you consent ask yourself 
if you would do it if you were at home. 
Ask if your father or your mother would 
be pleased at your acceptance of the invi- 
tation, or if they would not warn you to 
flee from the engagement as you would 
from the serpent. It may require longer 
for the beer to do its work of destruction 
than the bullet, or the shell, but the result 



10 

is just as inevitable, if the intemperate 
course is continued. 

If you have left the plough in the field, 
and hurried away to war at the call of your 
country, remember that you might have 
done service to your family and yourself, 
if you had proceeded with your agricultu- 
ral labors. Do not reduce the chances of 
your service in the army by drunkenness. 

If you have gone from the store in which 
you were engaged in a mercantile pursuit, 
remember that you might have maintained 
your reputation and been respectable and 
respected at home. Preserve your charac- 
ter in your military relations, and be sure 
that you are as much a man when you re- 
turn to your home as you were when you 
left it. 

Was it the trade you followed and that 
enabled you to support yourself with credit, 
and to render assistance to others of your 
familv and friends who needed it ? Eemem- 
ber that the same success might have at- 
tended your labors had you not become a 
soldier. Eesist every temptation that may 
be thrown in your way, and ever be the 



11 

manly character you were when home and 
friends were near, and when friendly asso- 
ciations had not corrupted you, and per- 
haps could not have done it. 

Did you leave a profession that was more 
or less lucrative in its return of profit for 
your labor, and in which your counsel was 
sought and you were frequently called upon 
for advice ? Remember that the same hon- 
orable and profitable pursuit might have 
been continued if you had chosen that it 
should be so. Repel the tempter when he 
approaches you, whether in the company of 
young associates or in the desire you may 
entertain for the dram. Determine that 
you will preserve your manhood in its 
strength, and that with the temptation in 
your view; you will be the man that will 
resist it. 

Soldier from the plough, the store, the 
trade, the profession, this little book is de- 
signed for you. Read it; ponder over it. 
Let its truths affect you. Let them cause 
you to vow eternal warfare against the 
tyrant, drunkenness. 

If you were well prepared and successful 



12 

in the pursuit of your business at home, I 
may refer you to the case of the "Good 
Salesman/' in this book, which will answer 
as a warning to the efficient young man 
who may be engaged in any business. 
With this case I was perfectly familiar, and 
you know as well as I do that what happened 
to him may happen to you. The safe side 
is the side on which there is no liquor. 
Keep on that side and you are safe. 

Are you an aspirant for political honors 
and profits? Examine the case of the 
"Would-be Politician/ which you will 
find in the following pages. His fate will 
assuredly be yours if you persist in the use 
of the intoxicating cup. 

Do you profess the religion of Jesus 
Christ ? If so you are looked up to as an 
example. There are hints that may be 
profitable to you among the pages that you 
are here desired to peruse. Eemember 
your position. It is one of eminent dis- 
tinction in proportion as you render it so 
by your character and labors. Do not 
meddle with the dram or you may realize 
how fearful may be the fall of the drunkard. 



THE DISEASE. 



The Desire for Intoxicating Liquors is a Disease, 

There is abundant evidence to prove that 
the desire for intoxicating liquors is a dis- 
ease. A disease is a moral or mental dis- 
order. So says the definition given in 
Worcester's large Dictionary. A moral 
disorder is a violation of the rules by which 
society is governed, and that should govern 
mankind in society. That drunkenness > is 
a moral disorder — that it is a violation of 
the rules of society, every sensible person 
very well knows. Who is it that disturbs 
the peace of society more frequently, or in 
a greater degree, than the drunkard ? This 
question may be answered by every man and 
woman who has had any experience in the 
social relations. 

And this moral disorder has its effects 
upon the mental and physical organization 
of man. What is the condition of the men- 
1 



14 

tal powers of the man in a state of intoxi- 
cation ? Are thev in tlieir sane condition ? 
Did any one ever see a man under the in- 
toxicating influence of liquor that could 
properly use his mental powers ? In a state 
of excitement those powers may be used 
while consciousness remains, but not in a 
state of intoxication. The intoxicated man 
is beside himself. His mind is not under 
"his control, because it is exhilarated beyond 
its ability , and loses its balance. It is in 
a state of bewilderment which is unnatural, 
and which cannot be controlled by reason. 
Who does not know that the drunkard is 
the most unreasonable of all men ? Wit- 
ness his language and his actions. He ut- 
ters foolishness in every word he speaks. 
He has no idea of the force of language, and 
mutters his unconnected sentences in such 
confusion as convinces every one with whom 
he attempts to converse that his senses are 
benumbed, and that he is not responsible for 
the abuses that he heaps upon his best 
friends. 

The effects of intoxicating liquors are 
witnessed as well in the movements of the 



15 

physical man as in the use of the man's 
mental powers. Why does that man stag- 
ger ? Why is it that he cannot support 
himself, and falls to the ground? It is be- 
cause the liquor he has drank has affected 
his physical system. He is excited; his 
blood is in a condition of fever ; his nervous 
system is affected ; his whole frame is dis- 
ordered ; his power of locomotion is either 
prostrated or weakened. It is in this con- 
dition that the drunken man is put to bed 
as though he were a sick man. And a sick 
man he is. He is too sick- to stand, and 
must of necessity be placed in a prostrate 
condition. Nor is the drunken man able 
to work himself, either in his mental or 
physical powers, until he becomes sober. 
He is therefore laid aside a sufficient period 
to wear off the effects of the liquor. He 
is good for nothing until the effects of the 
liquor have disappeared. 

And is it said that the drunkard cannot 
control his desire for liquor? So, inceed, 
is it truly said. He cannot control his de- 
sire for liquor, because it is a disease. And 
how is the disease produced? It is pro- 



16 

duced, like other diseases, by predisposing 
causes, and by contact with contagious pro- 
perties. 

One of the predisposing causes of this dis- 
ease is fondness for a stimulated condition. 
In this condition men fancy that they enjoy 
themselves. The drunken man sometimes 
exhibits himself in such a manner as to 
cause every one that witnesses his actions 
to believe that he is the happiest man in the 
world. Many times the man under the 
influence of liquor imagines he is the rich- 
est, or the most famous, or the most im- 
portant man of all the neighborhood. How 
then does he act ? Most foolishly. The 
bystanders that look upon the wildness of 
his actions and listen to the foolishness of 
his speech, set him down as an insane man. 
And such he is, for the liquor has deprived 
him of his judgment and his physical 
strength, and he shows himself to be a tem- 
porary lunatic. 

And there is contagion in this disease. It 
is produced by contact with those who are 
afflicted with it. Who associates with a 
drunkard and does not become a drunkard 



17 



himself? Should there be small-pox or 
yellow fever in a house, would not persons 
be afraid to enter it ? And what would 
produce this fear? It is the danger that 
the disease may be contracted. Both those 
diseases are known to be contagious. Per- 
sons are therefore afraid of contact with 
them. The case of the drunkard is similar. 
He comes in contact with those who are 
accustomed to dram drinking, or with the 
liquor, and is induced to use the beverage. 
But is it argued that there is a difference be- 
tween the effects of the small-pox or the 
yellow fever and dram drinking, in the fact 
that in the one case it is produced without 
action and in the other with action ? It 
must be remembered that it is the desire 
that is the disease, and this is produced 
without action, although the act is required 
to produce the drunkenness. The desire is 
the disease, and it is contracted by con- 
tact with contagions causes, and not by ac- 
tion. The action follows in the develop- 
ment of consequences in the same manner 
that consequences are produced by conta- 
gious diseases. 
1* 



18 

Keader, if you are afraid of going into a 
house where there is small-pox or yellow 
fever, be afraid of going into the "bar-room 
where liquor is sold and drank. The 
sight of the liquor, and the persons drink- 
ing it, may produce the desire, and you 
know how easy it is for the desire *to be fol- 
lowed by the act, which will prostrate you 
upon the ground as a drunkard. You think 
your life is in danger by your contact with 
the contagious disease. The desire for 
liquor, which is succeeded by drunkenness, 
is produced by the contagion of habit— the 
habit of drinking. Be consistent, then, 
and shun the one as well as the other. 
Avoid the associations of drunkenness and 
liquor, and you w T ill escape the disease 
which you will be almost sure to contract 
bv too near an approach to the contagion. 
And when the desire is indulged, what is 
the consequence ? Do you see that bloated 
face? TV hat produced it? Liquor. Do 
you observe how that man trembles? What 
causes his tremulousness ? He is excited by 
the liquor he has drank. Look how thfit man 
staggers ! What causes it? He is drunk. 



19 

Hear how foolishly that man talks. What 
is the cause of it? Drunkenness. And 
what is "to be the end of such pursuit ? The 
end is destruction. Nothing less. The de- 
sire indulged and increased by indulgence 
is the disease inflamed and aggravated, and 
it will carry the patient through the several 
stages of his excitement and depression ; 
his fever and its abatement, until the ruin 
appears. And the result is inevitable. The 
disease w^ill continue, and progress, and 
work destruction as long as it is allowed to 
work its way in the system. 

The rich man drinks because he can 
afford it. He has the means, which he can 
appropriate to the purpose without being 
oppressed by his circumstances. But it is 
not so with the poor man. Why does he 
drink when it requires all he can make in 
his daily labors to support himself and his 
family, if he has one ? The poor man drinks 
for the same reason that causes the rich one 
to do it. fie is impelled by his desire. 
The desire is his disease, and its results 
must be rendered apparent. The desire 
must be indulged, if it takes the last cent 



20 

that honestyprocures. If the manishungry, 
and has the means of satisfying his hunger, 
if compelled by his desire, he will expend 
it for the dram, though there be future 
trouble and even destruction in his view. 

But there is a moral difference between 
the diseases of small-pox and yellow fever 
and the desire for liquor. The man may 
be attacked by the small-pox or the yellow 
fever, notwithstanding his refusal to enter 
the house where those diseases are raging. 
This is not the case with the desire for 
liquor. In the indulgence of this desire 
the man has to act. He enters the place 
where the contagion is ; he comes in con- 
tact with it ; he takes hold of it ; he places 
it in his system. While in the one case he 
keeps away from the exciting cause of the 
disease, in the other he takes hold of that 
cause, and places it in immediate contact 
with the parts of his system that are affected 
by it. The poison is brought in immediate 
contact with the vital parts that are im- 
pressed and subdued and prostrated by it, 
and this by the voluntary act of the man 
himself. 



21 

But it may be said that the desire for 
liquor is not drunkenness. This is true. 
But the desire for liquor, when indulged, 
produces drunkenness. The desire for 
liquor indulged may be declared to be 
drunkenness, because the result is inevita- 
ble. The man that enters the restaurant, 
and drinks three mornings in succession, 
and cannot resist the desire for liquor on 
the fourth morning, is pretty well gone 
with the disease. The desire is surely fixed 
in the system, and once settled it will work 
its way of destruction. 

Eeader, if you have never been afflicted 
with the desire for the dram, and wish to 
know how it will affect you, I can give 
you an idea of it, if you have ever been ac- 
customed to the use of tobacco, and made 
the effort to give it up. You know how 
hard you had to struggle against that in- 
ward feeling that was like some living thing 
gnawing at your stomach, and inflaming 
with its effects the whole of the lining mem- 
brane of the throat and mouth. If you 
succeeded, you had to endure the trial. 
So is it with the desire for liquor ; if in- 



22 

dulged, it becomes your master, and when 
you would cease from its indulgence it rises 
up for the mastery, and you are a man 
indeed if you wrestle successfully against 
your adversary. The only difference be- 
tween the use of tobacco and that of liquor 
is in the force of the desire for the liquor, 
which is much stronger than that for 
tobacco. 

In its inflammation the desire for liquor is 
insupportable, and the rum-seller would 
have the fever rise to this point. For the 
purpose of causing you to reach it he uses 
every possible appliance. Do you remem- 
ber the card-table, the bagetelle-table, the 
domino-board, the faro bank ? Let me ask 
you, what do you suppose these demoraliz- 
ing agencies were intended for? Why, it 
Avas to arrest your attention . It was to keep 
you employed at exciting games in the sight 
of the liquor, so that you might be tempted 
to drink as often as possible. You perhaps 
know something about the excitement pro- 
duced by the game, and the frequency of 
the working of the desire. It was the dis- 
ease that was calling for its stimulus, and 



23 

that in most cases called too loudly to be 
resisted. 

Beader, if you are a young man, and 
have talents, I would warn you of the ruin 
of your intellectual powers, and of your 
final overthrow. You may improve your 
talents and occupy places of respectability 
and honor in society. There are halls of 
intelligence in which you may pass your 
time in self-improvement, or in impart- 
ing your intelligence to others. In those 
halls are the pursuits of honor and useful- 
ness. You may raise yourself to a proud 
eminence if you will only labor sufficiently 
for the purpose. And in the labor thus ex- 
pended there is character — character that 
you may possess, and that will give you a 
name and place among the community that 
may be indeed enviable. 

If you have contracted the disease, be 
warned to seek its cure. The first step will 
be to keep out the predisposing and exciting 
and aggravating causes. Keep out of the 
way of the liquor. u Look not on the wine 
when it is red/ 7 Shun the presence of the 
viper, and it will neither bite nor poison you. 



24 

It were much better not to contract the dis- 
ease^ than after you have contracted it to 
seek its cure. An ounce of preventive is 
worth a pound of cure. Use the preven- 
tive. Abstain from the use of liquor, keep 
out of its way, and the desire for it will not 
harm you. 



THE CAUSES OF DRUNKENNESS. 



The Desire for Intoxicating Liquors is the Cause of 

Drunkenness. 

In attempting to point out some of the 
principal causes of this deplorable evil, I can 
speak not from theory only,butfrom personal 
experience and observation. For fifteen years 
I have often had to work in taverns and 
bar-roouis, and of course had to mingle in 
all kinds of society, from the highest to the 
lowest. I have made good rise of these op- 
portunities for seeing the workings of in- 
temperance, and have besides often inquired 
of men who indulged too freely how they 
began to fall into this destructive habit. 

Though there is no good excuse for drink- 
ing liquor, no justifiable cause — for no man 
can be so senseless as not to know that it 
brings in its train ruin to both body and 
soul — yet the reasons with which so many 
2 



26 

men deceive themselves into this deadly 
habit are numerous. With the view of do- 
ing service to my fellow-men, I propose to 
examine some of them. 

The desire for excitement, for relaxation, 
for social pleasure and amusement, which 
is natural to man, and when properly di- 
rected is perfectly innocent, induces many 
persons to resort to the use of stimulating 
liquors. Some, for instance, drink because 
at the moment they have nothing else to do, 
and u must have excitement/' They afford 
an illustration of the common proverb : l c The 
idle man's head is the devil's work-shop F 
What a great pity it is that they cannot 
find a less expensive means of excitement. 
The cost is sometimes fearfully oppressive 
not only in money, but in health and in 
real happiness. A man can make nothing 
by idleness, while he may waste his time 
and his money, if he has it, in its indul- 
gence. Then it is that in his desire for ex- 
citement he may poison himself in the use 
of intoxicating liquors. For the brief enjoy- 
ment of what at best is but a momentary 
gratification, he brings upon himself per- 



27 

* 

manent disadvantage. And when engaged 
in the fatal orgies, in which the soul is sold, 
what power is there that can compute the loss 
he must sustain? For the sensual enjoyment 
of the single occasion he is willing to risk 
months of pain and wretchedness. Let the 
effects of a single night's debauch bear 
witness to the discomfort he brings upon 
himself. Behold his condition on the morn- 
ing after his revel. His eyes are swollen, 
his nerves are unstrung, and he trembles as 
if he had the ague. The gnawing; thirst 
for more liquor causes a burning sensa- 
tion in his stomach, which is almost insup- 
portable. His head is aching, and seeming 
as if it would burst. Its throbbing and 
jerking excite the most painful sensations. 
The man is dissatisfied and unhappy where 
he is, and he can be at rest no where else. 
If with all this there be the dim recollection 
of some act that is ridiculous, it brings the 
blush of shame upon his cheek. And what 
if the remembrance, dim as it may be, is 
of an act that is criminal ? Then comes 
the bitter reflection on account of the deed, 
or the fearful anxiety that the dread of be- 



28 

ing exposed occasions. Surely , while the 
man is in this condition he is enduring the 
curse of his own producing. He is bearing 
the afflictive penalty of his own deed. While 
the man lives and indulges himself in the 
use of the intoxicating bowl., he must render 
himself a wretched victim of his own de- 
praved taste and appetite. 

Suppose we contrast the enjoyment of 
the moment of dissipated pleasure with the 
wretchedness that follows, and with the 
pure satisfaction enjoyed in innocent amuse- 
ments, which cost nothing, and instead of de- 
moralizing, tend to elevate and refine. The 
pleasant walk or ride into the country, the 
healthful and manly engagement in sports 
in the open air, the quiet evening spent in 
good society, in musical or literary associa- 
tions, or in attendance upon entertaining 
and instructive lectures, and many other 
pursuits that might be named, leave no ex- 
cuse for resorting to the low and debasing 
stimulus of rum. These are real recrea- 
tions, and. leave a man with his eyes bright, 
his head clear, his nerves strong, his spirits 
buoyant, with no stings of remorse to tor- 



29 

ture him j and with the respect and friend- 
ship of all true men. 

Keader, if you are a young man, and 
have fallen into the habit of drinking and 
carousing for amusement, because cc you 
have nothing else to do/' as I have often 
heard it said, let me implore you to try 
these cheaper and purer employments, and 
my word for it, you will not only escape a 
perdition of torture, but you will experience 
a heaven in your breast that is worth all the 
sacrifice you can make of the intoxicating 
draught to obtain. 

And I warn you that if you will resort to 
these dens of vice, where both soul and body 
are destroyed, it will make earth a place of 
perfect horror to you. By indulging in drunk- 
enness you madly quench the light of reason, 
and in your moments of insanity, produced 
bytheliquor,youwill probably do something 
that you will have to regret for life ; some- 
thing that will haunt you to your dying 
clay, and fill you with sorrow and shame. 

Closely allied to the indulgence of the 
dram for the idle love of it, is another fruit- 
ful cause of drunkenness. It is the habit, 
2* 



9 







so lamentably prevalent among young men, 
and even boys, of frequenting beer-houses. 
There is a wide-spread, but very false no- 
tion, that beer is a very innocent and healthy 
drink, and many persons who would shud- 
der at the thought of ever being drunkards, 
do not hesitate to drink themselves, and 
invite others to drink u a social, healthy 
glass of beer. 7 ' Take your stand near what 
is called a respectable Lager Beer Saloon, 
and watch its customers, as they pass in 
and out. Some are business men of the 
neighborhood, who, when they make a sale, 
habitually invite their customers to take a 
glass of beer with them ; others are young 
men, who are just entering the road that 
will lead them to ruin ; others appear in 
rags and wretchedness. They have almost 
reached the last stage of the drunkard's 
career. It may be that while you are watch- 
ing you will see the respectable church- 
going gentleman y who, if you ask why he 
visits such places, will probably tell you 
his doctor advised him to drink lager beer, 
or something stronger, for his health. 
Never was there a greater or more fatal 



31 

professional mistake than this. It is the 
sheerest humbug palmed off upon the com- 
munity. I have the declaration from as 
eminent a physician as there is in this 
country , that lager beer is as rank a poison 
to the system as bad whiskey or worse rum. 
At least nine out of ten of the doctors who 
tell their patients to drink these stimulants 
are either Germans, who are fond of the 
dram themselves, or ignorant pretenders, 
who have never studied, and of course know 
little or nothing about the subject. 

In striking contrast with this church- 
going man, who drinks lager beer, &c, for 
his health, see that noisy crowd of youths, 
ranging in age from twelve years to man- 
hood ! What are they doing ? Listen ! 
They are cursing and swearing. Look 
through the window and bear witness. 
They are playing cards, bagatelle, or some 
other game. Listen to their coarse jokes 
and filthy language ! Look again ! They 
are swilling beer and whiskey and other 
intoxicating liquors. They are faithfully 
learning their trade as " drunkard's ap- 
prentices." Alas ! some of these boys are 



32 

sons of pious parents, who are living in the 
practice of the moral virtues, while their 
sons are at these dens of vice, preparing for 
the race of the vicious and the intemperate. 
They are revelling, it may be, on the Sab- 
bath, while their parents are at church 
praying for the prodigals. It is a^pity that 
such parents do not give their children bet- 
ter instruction, and endeavor to restrain 
them from the pursuit of the drunkard's 
path. I have known even preacher's sons to 
be at these wretched places, while their fath- 
ers were in the pulpit preaching the Gospel. 
Now, while I must of course blame these 
boys for so doing, I must blame still more 
severely those who should have taught them 
better, and prevented their fall into the 
vices of drunkenness and profanity. Again, 
I must blame the men who make our laws, 
and those who elect the law-makers. The 
law-makers should put a stop to the evil 
by shutting up the man-traps. Most of 
these places are kept by foreigners, who 
come here to make money, they care not in 
what way. What is it to the rum-seller 
whose son becomes a drunkard, or how 



33 



much society is demoralized , so that life can 
fill his purse? Laws of the most stringent 
character should be enacted in order to pre- 
vent the sale of beer or any other liquor to 
minors. I have never known it fail, that 
he who contracts the habit of drinking beer 
will soon want something stronger. These 
beer-shops are the gates of perdition to thou- 
sands of bo^s and men. It is a significant 
fact, that beer saloons, restaurants and bar- 
rooms are almost always in close neighbor- 
hood with gambling houses. And many a 
man has formed the terrible habit of gam- 
bling by making the acquaintance of gam- 
blersin the drinking saloon. They havebeen 
enticed to play while the brain was heated 
with liquor, and the seductive game being 
proposed and accepted, the trap is laid by 
allowing the novitiate to win awhile, then 
the scale is turned, and he begins to lose. 
At the first session he loses just enough to 
entice him back in the hope of making up 
for his misfortune by future success. For- 
lorn hope, wretched delusion ! Such is the 
machinery by which these gambling houses 
are worked, that you might as well expect 



34 

to find a needle in a "hay-stack, or to recover 
a stolen dollar, without a mark upon it, 
after it has been thrown into a pile with a 
thousand others. Men know the dreadful 
effects of gambling. They have seen the 
awful wrecks of fortune, intellect, character, 
happiness, and even life, it has occasioned ; 
and yet impelled by some singular and fool- 
ish fascination, they rush with their eyes 
open through its seductions and down to 
ruin. Why do they seek, night after night, 
the wild excitement which results in fever- 
ish anxiety, and that without dreaming of 
the dread issue of staking their all on a turn 
in a pack of cards or a box of dice ? In my 
opinion such persons are insane, and ought 
to be confined in a lunatic or inebriate asy- 
lum, where they may be prevented from 
doing such mischief to themselves and fam- 
ilies and friends. 

Eeader, if you are one of that unfortunate 
class of men, you have formed two of the 
worst habits that can possibly be formed 
by any human being. Drunkenness and 
gambling are the lowest and most degraded 
features of human vice. They act and re- 



35 

act upon each other, and unless you break 
away from their influence, which, like the 
folds of the Anaconda, press but to destroy, 
they will surely and certainly drag you into 
temporal ruin, which will be followed by 
eternal perdition ! Stop where you are. 
Touch not another drop. Play not another 
game. Give up the money you have lost. 
Let it go. You can never win it back, and 
the longer you play for it the more you will 
be disappointed, and the more unfortunate 
and the poorer you will be. The drunkard's 
and gambler's track is that of ruin. If you 
pursue it your ruin is inevitable, both of 
body and soul. If you continue its pursuit 
you may go on from one degree of degrada- 
tion and wretchedness to another, until your 
refuge may be found in the grave of the 
suicide. You may strike the blow at life 
with your own hand, that may hurry your 
guilty spirit into your Maker's presence. 

Speaking of the beer-house, suggests to 
my mind another very prolific cause of 
drunkenness — I mean the patronage of the 
keepers of such houses. I can fearlessly 
appeal to any and to every man who has 






worked in the beer-house, and in the service 
of the keeper, if he has ever realized the 
profit he expected. I appeal to such in the 
confidence of obtaining the reply that more 
has been lost than earned. A run of that 
kind of custom is ruin to a man in any kind 
of business. In your dealing you must 
drink with your employ or or cease to do his 
work. The first drink leads to other drinks, 
and the drinking goes on until drunkenness 
ensues. I know of men who had accu- 
mulated considerable means in the pursuit 
of their business, and who at the age of 
forty or fifty years concluded to invest their 
money in business. They did so, and for a 
time they succeeded well. But they were 
unfortunate enough to secure the custom of 
several beer-houses. The keepers of those 
houses managed to remain always a little 
in their debt, so that they might make fre- 
quent calls for their money, and at each 
call they were invited to drink. This is 
one of the regular u tricks of the trade," 
which are played on all persons with whom 
the beer-sellers deal. By keeping a little 
in the debt of those with whom they deal, 



31 

it naturally brings them more frequently to 
the house. Every time they appear there, 
as a matter of course they must drink, and 
then they must remain awhile to talk and 
to treat their friends as they come in. In 
this way men form new associations with 
tavern loungers and drunken, lazy loafers, 
who hang around such places. And so it 
goes on. At each tavern that owes the per- 
son employed, he must remain and take two 
or three drinks, until by the time he has 
gone the round of the dram-shops he is 
very fortunate if he is not pretty well in for 
it, as they say. Such man is unfit for 
business the rest of the day. 

This process may go on, working its 
effects imperceptibly for years, until the 
awful disease is fairly established in the 
system of the unfortunate dealer with the 
dram-shops. Then its fatal consequences 
must follow in the ruin of business, the de- 
struction of health and character, the misery 
of families, and all the dire ills that cluster 
around the person and the home of the 
wretched drunkard. Such was the course, 
and such the result of the wiles of the dram- 
3 



Q 



8 



sellers upon tlie men to whom I liave 
alluded. It is the rum-sellers business to 
work this sort of ruin, and he will do it 
more faithfully than ever servant served his 
master. He will, he does practice every 
stratagem he can invent to make a customer 
of the man to whom he gives his custom. 
And the dealer must become what is called 
a (C good customer. " I could tell of more 
than one man who was wrecked in this way, 
and when the dram-seller got his money, 
and made him a drunkard, and cheated him 
out of most of his hard earnings, he abso- 
lutely kicked him out of the drinking-room. 
I know from personal observation what the 
keeper of the beer-house will do with his 
customers. I have transacted a large amount 
of businesswith them, and that to my sorrow. 
I will say it boldly, and without the fear 
of contradiction, that the majority of the 
men who keep such houses are of the very 
lowest grade of society. If they do not so 
begin, they become so. All their concern 
is to make money, no matter by what 
means. If they find out that a man has 
money, they resolve at once to get as much 



39 

as they can of it. They proceed immedi- 
ately with, the work. They exert all their 
ingenuity to get whatever means may be 
in the possession of every new customer. 
And they will succeed with every one who 
crosses their threshhold, unless he makes a 
firm resolve never to put one drop of their 
poison to his lips. Beader, if you are com- 
pelled to do business with taverns and beer- 
shops, make up your mind not to drink one 
drop. Drink not the first drop. If you 
commence you put yourself in the hands 
of the harpies,, and poverty and ruin and 
wretchedness are the sure results. 

There are persons who form the habit of 
drinking under the influence of false no- 
tions, which are very current in the com- 
munity, and by which they delude them- 
selves to their own undoing. Some of these 
delusions I will here endeavor to expose. 

1. Some, for instance, think they cannot 
do business unless their nerves are braced 
and their minds brightened by stimulants. 
This is a foolish as well as fatal mistake. 
Liquor may — it does — impart a temporary 
excitement to the nerves and brain ; but 



40 

there is no real pleasure in the excitement, 
because the man is beside himself. He is 
intoxicated, and beyond the reach of rational 
enjoyment. And the excess is sure to be 
followed by a reaction, and to end in be- 
numbing the physical faculties, stupefying 
the mental powers, prostrating reason, un- 
settling the judgment, and rendering the 
subject unfit for any kind of intercourse with 
mankind. Is it reasonable to suppose that 
a man can pursue his business properly 
when his brain is muddled, when he is un- 
naturally excited, and not perfect master of 
himself? Ten to one, instead of attending 
to his affairs at his own store or shop, that 
he will spend the most of his time at the 
restaurant and in the bar-room, wasting his 
hours in foolish talk, or in the far more de- 
structive employment of drinking rum. 
Then it is likely he will make stupid, silly 
bargains, and expose himself to the chi- 
canery of every sharper who is the witness 
of his condition. Let me appeal to facts. 
Who ever knew a business man who was 
always stimulated or half drunk, that did 
not eventually fail, unless he reformed ? 



41 

Some may stand it longer than others, hut 
time will surely do its work of destruction 
on the tippling tradesman. If a man in 
any kind of business, large or small, con- 
tracts the habit of drinking, his failure may 
be written down as a certainty. 1 have seen 
it in hundreds of cases. Let it be set down 
as a never-failing rule, for it is such, that 
ruin is the ultimate destiny of the dram- 
drinking tradesman. Unless he dies in dis- 
grace, he will live to see his prospects ut- 
terly blasted, his children street beggars, 
turned away from home and scattered in 
utter want and wretchedness. His wife will 
be rendered a broken-hearted woman, and 
perhaps perish in the condition of utter 
destitution to which drunkenness has re- 
duced her. And all this for what ? Simply 
because the man has acted on the absurd 
notion that he cannot be a man and attend 
to his business without liquor, when the 
truth is exactly the reverse. 

2. But some say they take it to drown 

trouble. Alas ! that such a notion should 

ever possess a man, when it is known that 

drunkenness plunges him, body and soul, 

3* 



42 

in ten thousand times worse trouble than 
that from which he supposes he is flying. 
All drunkenness can do is to help a man to 
shut his eyes for a few hours to his troubles, 
and to dream of sorrows only to awake to 
greater misery. I have known, and you, 
my reader, have known liquor to give thou- 
sands trouble. But whose broken heart has 
it ever healed ? Whose anguish of soul has 
it ever soothed ? Has it ever restored the 
wealth that it has squandered, the houses 
and farms and merchandise that have been 
literally destroyed and desolated by its 
wretched progress ? Has it ever supplied 
the wants of the widow and the orphan, 
who have been stripped of all by its ac- 
cursed agencies ? Has it ever restored to 
life the hundreds of thousands martvred 
and murdered by the madness it has pro- 
duced? No, never. Then let me beseech 
you, reader, do not make use of intoxicating 
liquor to drown trouble. It is one of the 
chief causes of all the trouble that fills the 
world with groans and tears. 

3. Again, multitudes resort to the dram, 
because they say they are sick, and must 



43 

take it as a medicine. Ah, sad delusion ! 
Take it as a medicine ! Surely it is a medi- 
cine that kills far more than it cures. It 
kills its millions for every one it cures. It 
is the opinion of many eminent physicians 
that there is no case in which spirituous or 
malt liquor might benefit the patient that 
would not be better served by something 
else. There are medicines that may suit 
every case without the danger always 
attending the use of this fascinating poison. 
Many a man has commenced the practice 
of drinking by the advice of his physicians, 
who, for his own sake, and for the sake of 
his family , would have done better had he 
remained sick or even died. In such a ease, 
in the effort to cure a disease, another has 
been substituted. The new disease is worse 
than the first, because it effects the ruin 
of both body and soul. It has killed thou- 
sands. It has made victims of multitudes, 
as we have the proof. But where is the one 
it has cured? Reader, be not deceived. 
' c Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging/ 
and if your doctor advises you to take stim- 
ulants, tell him boldly you don't intend to 



44 

be poisoned, that his prescription shall not 
poison you, and that you would rather he 
sick, and die a sober man, than to die 
under his hand and in the pursuit of his 
advice, a drunkard. 

But in answer to all our arguments, we 
hear from many two very different, but what 
they regard as very potent objections. 
They are, however, as proved in hundreds 
.of thousands of instances, the most perfect 
fallacies. One class of drinkers say they 
will drink, because there is no danger of 
their becoming drunkards. " They can 
drink as much as they please, and not get 
drunk." Another class are too far gone 
for that potent fallacy. Their plea is < c they 
love the taste of it, and can't do without it." 
Let us brieflv consider these cases. I have 
known men of the first class, who boasted 
that they could drink liquor all day and not 
get drunk. Strange and astonishing as it 
may seem, I have seen them stand at the 
bar, and drink and drink, until their com- 
panions would be staggering all around 
them, while they were almost unaffected. 
The reason is that the poison instead of 



45 

going to the brain works upon some other, 
or perhaps all other parts of the system. It 
so gradually does its work that it is not 
perceived. It destroys the stomach, injures 
the action of the heart, and prepares the 
way for sudden death in many forms. A 
man with so firm a brain is tempted to 
drink more than others. Although the dis- 
ease of drunkenness is not apparent, the 
poison is operating in the system and un- 
dermining its powers, and will be as fatally 
successful in the end as if the drunkenness 
were apparent. It does not at first show 
itself, but it takes a deeper hold upon the 
system, and slowly and surely the poison 
does its fatal work. It does it secretly, but 
not the less certainly because secretly, until 
on some occasion the first news you hear, 
the man is dead: " he is gone, gone to 
a drunkard's grave/ I know of many 
cases of this kind ; I know of two cases 
which happened within the last three 
months. Poor deluded men ! Though such 
may have never been seen to stagger, yet the 
poison is operating, and will continue its 
operation. They are now nothing but rum- 



46 

soaked carcasses that you see walking along 
the street. They are doomed to sudden, 
certain, fearful death. There are some in 
this condition that will fall under mania 
a potiij others with sun-stroke, others with 
any epidemic which may prevail in the 
community. Like tinder, they are already 
prepared to go off at the least spark of 
disease. Therefore, young man, do not 
boast that you can drink as much as you 
please without being drunk, for let me 
warn you, your life is in greater danger 
than that of your companion who is more 
easily fuddled. And what a low and mean 
thing to brag of is the capability of extended 
dram drinking. I think it would be equally 
creditable to boast that you could murder, 
rob and slander, more than your acquaint- 
ances, without being discovered or brought 
to account. Let your boast rather be that 
you can stop drinking whenever you choose. 
And choose now, and forever. 

And what shall I sav of that unfortunate 
class who so love the taste of liquor, and 
have become so wedded to their cups that 
they u can't do without it/' 



47 

What a deplorable state for a man to be 
in, to love a viper , a worse than viper, 
which is his enemy— to love an accursed 
thing that is ruining his constitution, 
wrecking his reputation, and clothing his 
family in rags. "Can't do without it!" 
Can't do without a poison that is de- 
stroying both soul and body, that is 
producing a perfect hell in his bosom, 
that disgraces his wife and children as 
well as himself — that brings the blush of 
shame to their cheeks, and makes them 
wish they had no husband and no father. 
Poor man, you can't do with it. You can't 
do anything but make a beast of yourself, 
expose yourself to all sorts of slanders, and 
make your home a desolation. that your 
eyes might be opened to see the truth in all 
its hideous reality ! Look at your charac- 
ter. If it is known among a man's neigh- 
bors that he gets drunk, or even drinks at 
all, immediately all sorts of rumors are 
circulated about him, and they are not only 
circulated, they are believed. Whether 
true or false, every evil thing is credited to 
you by somebody. If you happen to stum- 



48 

ble from a misstep, pe v ople will say : u Ah ! 
there he goes, drunk again." If you take 
cold, and your eyes are swollen or red, they 
will say : "he was out drunk last night." 
Though you may not taste a drop for 
months, the tongue of slander will have it 
that you are drunk all the time". So little 
sympathy is felt for the drinking man, that 
if you are in business, and have competitors 
in the same line of trade, they will use 
your well known habits as a lever to over- 
throw your character and business together. 
Let me give an instance which occurred in 
my own neighborhood. 

There were two men in the same line of 
business. One of them was a good-hearted 
fellow, whose love of drink was his only 
fault. He was fond of it, would spend his 
money freely for it, and at times get drunk. 
The other was a little-souled, mean, stingy 
creature, who loved liquor too, but he loved 
money better. He would not drink unless 
he could find somebody fool enough to pay 
for it, which very seldom happened. 

Whenever the first man's name was men- 
tioned, his crafty opponent would say, 



49 

"that man is alwavs drunk, he will not 
attend to vour work/ If he made an esti- 
mate for work a little lower than the other > 
he would sneeringly say : " he was drunk 
when he did it." In fact, when the man 
was perfectly sober, his adversary would 
say : "I saw him drunk this morning." 
He pursued this course until he succeeded 
in ruining the business of his drinking 
neighbor. 

Take another case. Gro to the home of 
the wealthy man. Though everything looks 
bright and beautiful, his house grand and 
imposing, his furniture magnificent, his 
gardens adorned with the rarest flowers, 
and filled with the choicest fruit, with 
every elegance and luxury at his command, 
so that you involuntarily exclaim, u surely 
peace and happiness reign supreme within 
these walls/ yet if this arch-enemy of man 
has entered, that splendid home is soon 
rendered a desolation. The owner has be- 
come a drunkard. He thinks he " can't 
do without it." His palace soon becomes 
a living tomb. See his accomplished and 
devoted wife, grief standing out in bold 
4 



50 

relief on her pale features. See his lovely 
daughters hiding their heads in shame, 
trembling at their father's footstep, afraid 
to mingle in soeietv, unwilling to bear the 
finger of scorn. Is not this misery? Is 
it not agony insupportable? And all for 
what? Because the wretched husband and 
father has fallen into the snares of the 
tempter, and says he "must have liquor, 
he can't do without it." Let me say to 
that gentleman, and to all who offer this 
miserable plea : You can do without it. 
You must do without it, or you are lost. 
Summon up your resolution. Determine 
to be a man. Go to the Almighty Father 
that loves you, and ask Him for strength 
and grace to support you in your effort to 
be a sober man. Go to the footstool of 
mercy and beg for pardon, cast your guilty 
and polluted spirit upon the Saviour who 
died for sinners, and having given yourself 
to Him, identify yourself with some Chris- 
tian church, and seek aid in its sympathy 
and prayers, and then "watch and pray 
lest you enter into temptation," and you 
will conquer your foe, and stand forth a 

FEES MAN. 



51 

Let rne now, in conclusion, upon this 
point, relate an incident which illustrates 
much that I have said as to the causes and 
effects of drinking. I know a gentleman 
who was formerly in the dry goods business. 
Never was there a man more respected. He 
was a gentleman in every respect, energetic 
in his business, kind and charitable, and 
beloved by all who knew him. He married 
as noble a woman as the sun ever shone 
upon, and had hosts of friends. In short, 
his prospects for a happy and prosperous 
career were as bright as possible. 

But there were some ten or twelve gentle- 
men in his neighborhood, who visited each 
other by turns, and when they did so, the 
party visited would give a grand supper. 
Then the social cheer was indulged. The 
sparkling wines were brought out. The 
best liquors were placed upon the board. 
Songs were sung, and toasts proposed and 
drank, and laughter and hilarious joy were 
heard, and the hours were passed through 
midnight and until the morning. But 
what was the end of all this ? Did the 
scene close as it began, in light and joy, 



52 

and beauty and prosperity? Never did 
such result follow upon such a course of 
life. Darkness, and sorrow, and deformity, 
and destruction, were the dread results 
that ever concluded such a scene. 

Let me here remark that men are often 
mistaken about the real friendship of those 
who visit them, for they frequently turn 
out to be your worst enemies. They will 
partake of your hospitality, and no sooner 
leave your house than they will stab you 
with the keen dagger of the slanderer, or 
injure you in your business, or cheat you 
out of your money. So it was with our 
dry goods merchant. These expensive and 
jovial and delightful suppers were kept up 
for a long time, that is, as long as the means 
lasted. And there were seldom joyous, 
happy greetings that exceeded those of our 
merchant. They were among the very 
best. . Among the guests was a liquor 



merchant, whose store was near his estab- 
lishment. The dry goods merchant and 
the liquor dealer became very intimate, and 
the dry goods merchant acquired the habit 
of visiting his friend, the liquor dealer, very 



53 

often. He made especial visits when he 

wanted a drink. And so lie progressed, 

drinking more and more every day, until 

at last he never drew a sober breath. He 

did not stagger, but drank just enough to 

keep him always under its influence. He 

soon began to decline in his business. He 

fell behind in his accounts. He made some 

unfortunate speculations. He was drunk 

when he made them. His creditors became 

suspicious. It was rumored that he would 

not meet his engagements. Claims were 

pressed. Securities were required. Having 

bought goods on the eve of a decline, he 

lost about five thousand, dollars bv the 

operation. The liquor merchant and two 

others of his supper-going friends borrowed 

his notes and cash to the amount of ten 

thousand dollars, but forgot to pay the 

notes or refund, the cash. With these and 

other losses, his affairs fell into a desperate 

condition. His creditors came in and swept 

awav all that he had, even to his furniture. 

He had to send his wife and children into 

the country, to the home of a relative of his 

wife, while he kept on drinking more than 
4* 



54 

ever. He had no employment, and drank, 
as he said, " to drown trouble/ What a 
mistake! The drink was the^very thing 
that caused his troubles, and still he kept 
them in continuance. It was not long be- 
fore his wife died of a broken heart. She 
was a delicate woman, and had not the 
nerve to endure her disgrace and misfor- 
tune, but gradually declined in her grief 
until death released her from suffering, 
leaving: her two little children worse off 
than orphans. At this very day, this man is 
hanging around low groggeries, hoping that 
some one will take pity on him and treat 
him to a glass of liquor. All his friends that 
were once the companions of his suppers, 
and praised his elegant entertainments, 
pass him by without notice. They hardly 
acknowledge that they ever knew him. 
None own his acquaintanceship, not even 
the rascally liquor merchant, and the others 
who cheated him out of the ten thousand 
dollars, with which loss his downfall be- 
gan. I think it likely that if he would 
venture to call at one of their houses and 
ask either of them for fifty cents, they 



55 

would give liiin the cold shoulder, and 
probably order him out of their doors. Such 
are the world's votaries, reader. They 
will court your friendship while you are in 
prosperity, but as soon as you begin to go 
down hill, every one will give you a push, 
until you land in misery, rags, and utter 
ruin, at its base. Such were the results 
of " drinking for amusement/ frequenting 
a liquor store, mingling with convivial 
company, and seeking u to drown trouble' 
in liquor. Such was the fall of the man 
that thought he could " drink without get- 
ting drunk," but too soon learned to love 
it, and to say, u I can't do without it." 

May all who read these lines be warned 
by the terrible fate of our merchant drunk- 
ard, and heed the admonition of the wisest 
of men: u Look not thou upon the wine 
when it Is red, when it giveth his color in 
the cup, when it moveth itself aright ; at 
the last it hiteth like a serpent, and stingeth 
like an adder." Proverbs, xxiii : 31, 32. 



EFFECTS OF DKUNKENKESS. 



Tlie Desire for Intoxicating 1 Liquors Eealized in 

its Effects. 

Ix accordance with the plan proposed, I 
have taken notice of a few of the many 
causes of liquor drinking, and of course of 
drunkenness. I will now direct your atten- 
tion to some of the effects produced by the 
too free use of intoxicating stimulants. The 
effects thus produced may be seen in the 
ruinous results occasioned by intoxicating 
liquors upon the human system. The ef- 
fects of drunkenness upon the family, upon 
society, and upon the community and the 
country, are visible in acts which are de- 
structive of character, and degrading to all 
engaged in them. 

The natural effect of over drinking is 
drunkenness, and you may see the drunk- 
ard reeling along the streets at almost any 



57 

time. The over-draught has wrought its 
work upon the brain of the drunkard, and 
almost paralyzed his entire system. His 
sight, his hearing, his nervous system, the 
circulation of his blood, all are oppressed 
by his over-draught/ He cannot think ; 
he cannot walk without staggering ; he 
cannot talk without hesitating and blun- 
dering, and he is not able to take care of 
himself. In a still further condition of 
intoxication you will find the man upon 
the pavement, or in the gutter, stretched 
out at full length. Then what is to be 
done ? Some friend must take him home, 
or a police officer may find him and convey 
him to the station house. But there is a 
still further condition of drunkenness. It 
is that in which the liquor has so far over- 
powered the brain as to render the man a 
maniac. He has mania a potu — delirium 
tremens. He is crazy and cannot keep 
himself still to save his life. . The worst 
ague a man can have is that of the trem- 
bling occasioned by the surfeit of liquor. 
And the delirium in connection with it 
produces the most horrible sensations. 



58 

The man under the influence of delirium 
tremens is in a worse condition than he can 
bring upon himself by any other means this 
side the realms of old Pluto. While he is 
shivering in the most horrible physical 
sensations, his brain is on fire and he sees 
such sights as no man in his senses can 
ever see. Demons of all shapes and sizes 
appear before him., and he is so terrified 
that to escape from his dreadful condition 
he would willingly destroy himself. 

It is in this condition of drunken insan- 
ity that men are obliged to be tarken to 
hospitals and treated as insane persons. 
They are indeed insane, and their insanity 
is the very worst kind. It is that which 
preys upon mind and body, and destroys 
the man just as fast as the ravages of the 
drunkenness can be carried through the 
system'. 

But the effects of drunkenness are not 
only witnessed in tlxese dreadful calamities. 
They are seen in the fruits that follow, in 
the disposition it produces to riot and to 
steal, and to violate the laws of the land in 
every way, even to the commission of mur- 



59 

der. These results have not only followed 
in the drunkard's path in past days and 
years. They are following in his path now. 
They are causing men to be arrested and 
cast into prison for their crimes every day. 
The almshouse is at the end of the career 
of the most fortunate drunkard. The less 
fortunate find their home in the prison, 
first, the jail— then the penitentiary, or 
perhaps the end of the crime is upon the 
gallows. The history of the past of our 
country, of our State — of every State, of 
our city — of every city, is full of details of 
such results. Drunkenness never did and 
never can do a man any good, hut it may 
and will inevitably bring upon him some 
one or more of the calamities here men- 
tioned. 

If a man is, a drunkard, and will not 
support himself, he must be supported 
somehow and somewhere. If he bring on 
the necessity he must be supported at the 
public expense, and in the almshouse. If 
he produce the further necessity he must be 
supported and punished in the prison. And 
if he bring on the still further necessity — 



60 

that which, reaches beyond his support, in 
the forfeit of his life, he must perish upon 
the gallows. 

And how many drunkards have thus 
brought upon themselves the very worst 
kinds of punishment? How many have 
madly passed their way of guilt and ruin 
until destruction has succeeded ? From all 
conditions of life drunkenness has brought 
the man down. The richest fall with the 
lowest into disgrace, crime, and ruin. 
Money, nor character, nor family relation- 
ship, nor anything can save the drunkard 
from the degradation and wretchedness and 
suffering he is bringing upon himself. 

But thus far I have spoken of the drunk- 
ard in relation to the trouble and ruin he 
brings upon himself. This is not all. I 
would it were all. I would that the drunk- 
ard could only damage and destroy himself. 
But this cannot be the case. Every drunk- 
ard is in some way connected with his 
family. He has a father, a mother, broth- 
ers, sisters, wife, children, perhaps other 
more distant relatives. Can he pursue his 
way of drunkenness without doing damage 



61 

to one or more, or all of these family con- 
nections ? If nothing more, all — to the 
very farthest off of his relatives — must feel 
the disgrace of his mean and disgusting 
course of life. 

Has the drunkard a father ? How much 
sorrow must the old man feel in witnessing 
the ruin of his son ? Has he a mother ? 
How must her heart bleed when she sees 
him in his miserable condition, staggering 
and muttering, and requiring some one to 
assist him to prevent him from falling to 
the ground. And when she places him 
in bed and watches at his side, how con- 
stantly must her heart ache at the idea that 
the child of her affections is thus disgraced 
and ruined. Has he brothers and sisters? 
How they despise him on account of his 
low, mean habit, and how they wish he 
was not their brother. They would disown 
him and cast him off, if they had not still 
some affection for him as so near a relation. 

But has the drunkard a wife and chil- 
dren ? Has he a promising, rising family, 
that he might support in a condition of 
respectability, and bring out for honorable 
5 



62 

society and for a prominent place in busi- 
ness life ? Alas, that the hopes of such a 
family should he in a miserable drunkard. 
Alas, that the wife's and children's pros- 
pects in life should depend upon a low, 
mean, degraded wretch, who cares neither 
for wife nor children, nor even for himself, 
half so much as he cares for the liquor that 
is destroying him ! And what are the 
prospects of the wife, the children, and of 
himself? Disgrace, degradation, ruin. The 
almshouse is to be the home of the unhappy 
wife and the helpless children. Is this so ? 
Gro to the almshouse. Ask that woman how 
she came there. She will answer, u through 
the wrongs and outrages of a drunken hus- 
band/' Has she children? Yes, she has 
one in her arms, an infant. There is 
another at her side. And are there others? 
Yes. She tells you of a son that is living 
with a friend, and of a daughter that is 
working in some family. She tells you 
they were all comfortable and happy once, 
but drunkenness brought them down until 
they were in debt as far as they could get 
into it in the neighborhood, and that the 



6° 



6 



landlord took their furniture and turned 
them out of doors. And then came sick- 
ness, and then she was obliged to be taken 
to the almshouse. And where is the drunk- 
en husband ? He is either dead, or in 
prison, or in another part of the almshouse. 
And does the unhappy woman wish to see 
him ? Alas, no. She wishes never to see 
him again. He has rendered himself loath- 
some to her, and it would be relief for her 
to die and leave the world in which she has 
had so much trouble, and the husband that 
has brought the trouble upon her. But 
the children ! Ah, yes, for them she has 
an affection that encourages her to suffer on 
in the hope that returning health will en- 
able her to support herself and her children 
when she may take them to a house of her 
own, and once more make them comfort- 
able. This is all the hope the poor dis- 
tressed woman can possess, and little as it 
may be, and dark and gloomy .as may be 
the prospect before her, she is still cheered, 
and hopes on and ever, that the day of her 
deliverance may dawn upon her. 

Can any one undertake to tell how much 



64 

the poor wife, thus reduced, must suffer, to 
bay nothing of the children and their pri- 
vations among strangers, and their pros- 
pects in the future, and the abuse to which 
they may be exposed, — how severely and 
how bitterly must be the endurance of the 
neglected, forsaken, abused, heart-broken 
wife ? And the poor wretch that is raving 
for liquor in another part of the almshouse 
took that woman from a good, comfortable 
home, where she was well taken care of and 
happy. He made pledges and promises of 
care and protection, and swore he would be 
her support and defender through life. 
His pledges and promises and oaths were 
all broken, and for the indulgence — the 
poor, pitiful, mean indulgence in the 
drunkard's glass — he falsified all bis de- 
clarations, and wrought ruin for his family 
and himself. 

Is this the result of drunkenness ? Ask 
every family in the land if in a nearer or 
more remote relation they have not realized 
it. It is the result of drunkenness, and it 
was long foreseen before it took place. The 
father saw it, the mother saw it, the broth- 



65 

ers and tlie sisters saw it , tlie wife saw it, the 
children saw it. But what could be done to 
prevent it? From the father down to the 
child all was done that could he to prevent 
it. But the poor mean creature was re- 
solved upon his dram and his drunkenness, 
with it all in view, and with warnings suf- 
ficient to have arrested him in his course. 
But all would not do. The dram must be 
indulged in, and the ruin must be accom- 
plished. 

So common are the scenes and circum- 
stances here noticed, that they hardly seem 
to have any effect upon the community. 
The miserable drunkard is taken with his 
family to the almshouse, or while the fam- 
ily is taken to the almshouse, the drunkard 
is conveyed to the prison, and the neigh- 
borhood in which he lived is almost uncon- 
cerned in relation to it. Hardly half the 
people know anything about it, and those 
who do know do not care. And when it 
happens, as it sometimes does, that the 
wretched man is condemned to death for 
taking the life of his fellow-man in a drunk- 
en fit, the people think of the murder and 
5* 



66 

the trial and the condemnation , and say what 
a pity it is that the man should be hung ; 
and all the time they think but little of the 
drunken fit, under the influence of which 
the man committed the crime for which he 
was convicted and sentenced to the gallows. 
With the murder in view, many cry out, 
cc it served him right/' while they forget 
that the liquor was the cause of his crime. 
Thev blame the murderer for the crime, 
but think little of the drunkenness that 
led to the deed. The murderer is con- 
demned and abused, while the drunkard is 
not considered. Is it not wonderful that 
many of the people will blame the man for 
committing the murder, while they do not 
think of blaming him for getting drunk ? 

Many a man has proceeded in his career 
of dram-drinking until he was ruined that 
never meant to become a sot. Manv a man 
has drank himself a drunkard who has be- 
lieved, or persuaded himself into the belief, 
that he could not do without the liquor. 
This is a monstrous absurdity. There 
never was a man who could not do without 
liquor. A man may curb his desire for 



67 

drink. He may resist the temptation and 
save himself if he will. A little reasoning 
on the subject will bring a man to his 
senses, and perhaps save him from a drunk- 
ard's and a murderer's grave. It should 
be remembered, that it always requires a 
cause to produce an effect. No effect can 
be produced without a cause. It cannot be 
that a man can become a drunkard without 
drinking liquor. The liquor is the cause — 
drunkenness the effect. Eemove the cause 
and the effect cannot be produced. There 
is no cause that produces its effect upon the 
human system that is generally more fatal 
than the use of liquor. It leads a man im- 
perceptibly on until his ruin is accom- 
plished. 

It is a great pity that a moral being, hold- 
ing a place in creation as high as that oc- 
cupied by man, should give way to the 
temptation to drink when his noble powers 
are prostrated and sacrificed in the result. 
Why should the being of immortal mind 
be reduced to a common level with the 
brute ? This is done by liquor. The proud 
faculties which distinguish man as the lord 



68 

of creation are blunted and deadened, and 
lie rendered unfit to use them — all by his 
indulgence in the ruinous habit of taking 
his liquor. How is it possible for a sensi- 
ble man to continue in the habit of using 
intoxicating liquors, when he must witness 
its destructive influence, and feel that he is 
on the downward track? There are his 
starving, half-naked children. He sees 
their condition — he knows they are suffer- 
ing ; but he must have his drink, and he 
will have it, though his children perish in 
his sight and by his neglect. There is his 
heart-broken, emaciated wife. She is worn 
down by sickness on account of his neglect. 
She has done the best she could with her 
needle, working day and night to support 
her children, and a large share of her hard 
earnings have been used in sustaining the 
life of her destroyer. And he sees and 
knows it all, but he must have his dram, 
cost what it may in money, or cost what it 
may in pain and privation to his wretched, 
suffering family. 

Has the man a conscience who can thus 
abuse himself to the destruction of his men- 



69 

tal powers, his moral nature, his wife, his 
children and himself? Truly, his eon- 
science, if he ever had one, must be " seared 
as with a hot iron." Can the man possess 
any of the sensibilities of a man that can 
endure the sneers of his fellow-men, their 
slights, their neglect, on account of his 
drunkenness, and yet indulge it ? But what 
are sneers and slights and neglect to the 
creature that can look upon the sufferings of 
his helpless wife and innocent children, and 
yet wilfully continue the cause that is grad- 
ually producing its effect in their downfall 
and destruction ? It is of very little avail 
that a man's old acquaintances pass him by 
with indifference. They meet him on the 
street and in company, and take no notice 
of him. But what does he care ? He feels 
cut for the time, and it may be that some 
mortification may be endured, but he can- 
not resist ; he must still indulge in his 
glass. He cannot resist, because he will 
not. He must still indulge, because he will 
not summon up his resolution as a man, 
and quit forever his vile practice. 

In the pinching of his necessity does the 



70 

drunkard go to his friend to borrow money. 
It may be the friend that has received 
favors from him that he thus asks to loan 
him a trifle. But what is the reply? 
u Drink less whiskey, and you will have 
more money. Stop spending your money for 
whiskey, and you will not have to borrow." 
Such is the reply that he gets to his ap- 
plication for a friendly act. But what effect 
has it upon him ? Does it cause him to 
quit his practice, and become sober, and 
take care of the money he earns ? No such 
effect is produced. The man drinks in the 
view of the loss of friends, and of insults, 
and of privations of every kind. He drinks 
though death were staring him in the face. 
He knows that the liquor is poison, and that 
it will surely destroy him, and yet he dares 
to continue in its use. 

And can it be supposed that although the 
man may continue to indulge his habit, 
and seem indifferent when his friends turn 
away from him, and refuse to afford him 
relief, and cast their scorn upon him, can 
it be supposed that such a man, under such 
circumstances, is really as indifferent to it 



71 

all as lie seems to be ? It is not so. The 
drunkard does sometimes feel tlie neglect 
of liis friends ; he does sometimes experi- 
ence the regret that such treatment usually 
occasions. It is the case sometimes that 
there is as burning a hell in the drunkard's 
bosom as a man ever endured, and all the 
while he appears to be indifferent and care- 
less of what is going on around him. 

Do you desire to see the drunkard when he 
is enduring the worst effect of his drunken- 
ness in his system ? G-o to his house the 
morning after he has been on what is called 
cc a spree/ Ask him how he feels ; he will 
answer, u horribly/ He has no disposi- 
tion to talk, but will sullenly answer your 
questions, while he stretches his limbs and 
stares around and keeps in continual mo-* 
tion, in the effort to place himself in a posi- 
tion in which he can get a little ease. Tell 
him that as he came home last night there 
were many of his friends that saw him, and 
that pitied him, and condemned him, and 
laughed at his awkward gestures and the 
manner in which he staggered along the 
street. Tell him that some of his enemies 



12 

were following him, and tormenting him 
by punching him with their sticks, and en- 
deavoring to throw him upon the pavement. 
While you are telling the story you may 
witness the agitated motions of his limhs ; 
you may look upon his blood-shot eyes 
staring in frightful wildness. If he has 
strength enough he will pace up and down 
his room, and that in the most nervous 
manner. Ask him if he feels unwell. He 
will tell you that his stomach is gnawing 
and burning, and that he is enduring' the 
most dreadful pains throughout his entire 
system. If you inquire if you shall get him 
anything to eat, or do anything to relieve 
him, he will tell you no. He will say that 
anything you can do will only make the 
matter worse. 

And what is it the man craves in this 
condition ? It is liquor — more liquor. He 
is starving, and he wants liquor. He is 
thirsting, and he wants liquor. He is 
writhing in pain on account of the liquor 
that has lost its force in his system, and he 
wants liquor. He is shivering under the 
prostration of his nervous system, occa- 



73 

sioned by the liquor he has already drank;, 
and he wants liquor. What is it that pro- 
duces this terrible condition ? The liquor 
has wrought a fiery course through his 
veins. It has inflamed his lungs, his liver, 
his stomach, his brain. He is suffering in 
every organ. His whole frame is on the 
rack. His heart is fluttering under the 
excitement. He cannot keep still. What 
ravage is going on in the man's system ? 
What destruction the liquor is working ? 
It is using up the man's power of mind and 
body just as rapidly as it is possible for the 
work to be accomplished. There is no hope 
for the wretched creature but in his aban- 
donment of his practice, and this he will 
not do. He will force his way onward, 
although he knows that at the end of it 
there is inevitable destruction. 

Is the philosophy of the man's condition 
known? It is readily described. The 
stomach is on fire. It is burning in every 
part. The mucous membrane is inflamed. 
It sends its message of suffering to the 
brain. The brain sympathizes and com- 
municates its sympathy to the nerves and 
6 



74 

heart. The heart unites with the stomach 
and brain in the feverish inflammation, and 
if the man is not enduring the agoiiies of 
a tortured system he never can endure such 
agonies. The demand is made by every 
agitated organ for more liquor. The brain, 
the nervous system, the heart — all unite in 
the demand. The brain must have the 
liquor, or it fails to communicate its energy 
to the nervous system, of course the nervous 
system is prostrated, the heart beats vio- 
lently — it is wrought up to palpitation in 
the failure of its supply of strength. But 
what is the answer the stomach returns to 
this demand ? It complains that it suffers 
more than any other organ, and yet that it 
is full to overflowing, and is in want of 
more. The liquor within has lost its pow- 
er, but the stomach in its inflammation re- 
tains its desire, and the suffering thus pro- 
duced must be the most intense that can be 
imagined. How can it be otherwise when 
the line of inflammation extends through 
all the vital organs of the system? 

Eeader, did you ever witness the nausea, 
the death sickness, that is produced by a 



75 

drunkard's over-draught ? His return late 
at.niglit to his home is from his drunken 
spree. He throws himself down, whether 
upon the bed or upon the floor, he knows 
not, and perhaps cares not. There he rolls 
and tosses till the morning, and when the 
morning comes, and he begins to realize 
his condition, he is sick enough. Nothing 
will remain 'in his stomach. It rejects 
everything but the liquor, and that will 
hardly remain in it. The poor unfortunate 
sufferer naturally cries for more liquor to 
brace his nerves and strengthen his limbs, 
so that he may be able to stand. And the 
liquor he must have, or suffer such pains 
as are hardly ever endured in any disease 
that may happen to persons of temperate 
habits. 

It is said of liquor that it steals away a 
man's sensibilities. And so it does. Who 
would believe that a man may be too drunk 
to stagger ? Who would believe that a man 
may be able to walk erect and straight for- 
ward, and yet be so drunk as not to know 
what he is about ? Such is sometimes the 
case. Men have committed murder under 



76 

just such, circumstances. They have ap- 
peared to be able to control themselves. 
They have seemed to hear and see and ap- 
prehend, while all was dull and dreamy, 
and there was little sensibility in the per- 
son. The lips could move in muttering un- 
meaning words. The hand could be lifted. 
The blow could be struck. The victim 
could be slain. All this while the wretch 
that passed through it, and committed the 
fatal act, was unconscious of his condition 
or his actions. 

An evidence of the truth of this state- 
ment is on record in the history of our own 
city. A man who had been on the most 
intimate terms of friendship with his own 
brother-in-law, on one occasion spent a 
whole day and most of a night on a drunk- 
en frolic. Late in the night he returned 
home, and by some means found his w r ay 
into his room and to his bed. He felt hor- 
ribly as he laid and tossed in the solitude 
of his chamber. His brain was fevered, 
and his whole system was on the rack. As 
the night passed on he grew worse, and in 
a fit of madness he arose from his bed, 



77 

seized an andiron from the fire-place, hur- 
ried, staggering and swaggering, to his 
"brother-in-law's bed, and in two minutes 
beat out his brains. The act was sufficient 
to sober him, but it did not, nor did he then 
experience the dread reality of his deed of 
murder. He was confined until the morn- 
ing, when he was arrested and conveyed to 
prison. It was not until he reached the 
prison and was about to be locked in its cell 
that he came to himself. He asked the 
officer why he was arrested and brought to 
prison. When the fact was communicated 
to him he fainted and fell upon the floor. 
Upon his recovery the truth flashed upon his 
mind with such force as to overcome his 
reason, and seizing a knife, he would have 
plunged it into his heart if it had not been 
for the arrest of his arm by the officer. 
He was soon placed upon trial for the mur- 
der, and convicted. He was sentenced to 
the penitentiary for eighteen years. Al- 
though a number of years — the years of his 
confinement — passed since the deed was 
committed, the murderer always protested 
that he was utterly unconscious of his act. 
6* 



18 

Truly fearful are the effects of intoxicat- 
ing liquors. They render the man insensi- 
ble to every condition and circumstance. 
So much so, that in a state of utter uncon- 
sciousness he can rise from his bed, seize a 
deadly weapon , rush to the side of his 
sleeping victim, and leave him a corpse 
upon his bed. Does the blood run chill 
and cold while such a tale as this is in re- 
hearsal? It is a warning to the drunkard 
to beware of his besotted practice. It is a 
warning to the moderate — the so-called 
temperate drinker to cease from his indul- 
gence of the habit in the fear that a like 
result may happen to him. It is a warning 
to the temperate man never to touch the 
accursed bowl. 

But all men are not affected in the same 
way in the use of intoxicating liquors. 
While it fires and maddens the brains of 
some, it makes others as simple and as fool- 
ish as idiots. In fact, it does render them 
idiots for the time being. You sometimes 
see a drunken man in his silly mood, He 
dances, laughs, sings, huzzahs. Say what 
you please to such a one, call him by any 



79 

name, use the most insulting expression, 
and lie laughs in your face. He looks 
upon you with a stupid, idiotic stare, and 
evidently does not realize the force of your 
remarks. He imagines he is rich, and de- 
sires to spend his money in treating you. 
Many a one has began his career in this 
way. But he has not so ended it. For a 
time with such persons the effect of the 
liquor is not painful either in the height 
of its operation or in the loss of its influ- 
ence. But this condition cannot always 
last. The coat of the stomach will in time 
be so affected as to become painful — then a 
different set of sensations are produced. 
The most peaceful and quiet man then 
becomes the fiercest fiend. The idiotic 
child becomes the furious madman. Then 
he may commit the most horrible crimes 
and run the risk of the most fearful pun- 
ishment. 

I have shown how surely liquor will con- 
vert some persons into murderers. It will 
convert them also into thieves. Some per- 
sons strictly honest at other times, when 
under the influence of intoxicating liquor 



80 

will steal everything they can lay their 
hands upon. It matters not if they do not 
want what they steal. The act of theft is 
performed by a propensity that is increased, 
if not produced, by drunkenness. I know 
a very wealthy man who was in the habit 
of taking an occasional spree to himself. 
When fairly drunk, nothing was safe that 
he could steal. It was no matter whether 
the thing in the way were worth much or 
little, it was sure to be stolen. His move- 
ment in stealing was cunningly pursued. 
He knew very well when persons were near, 
and might detect him. and he watched his 
opportunity, and generally succeeded with- 
out the prospect of detection. Notwith- 
standing the adroit manner in which his 
thefts were accomplished, he never seemed 
to be aware of the folly, and always re- 
gretted the act after it was performed. 
Many times he has stolen articles of value 
from neighbors and friends, which his wife 
took the first opportunity of returning. 

In one instance this inebriate thief came 
very near being caused to suffer the full 
penalty of his folly. He was on one of his 



81 

sprees when he stole the purse of an asso- 
ciate ; how he did it he was not able to tell. 
The purse, however, was found in his 
pocket by his wife. Like some other wives, 
she was an excellent hand in searching her 
husband's pockets. There were two hun- 
dred dollars in the purse, and the wife was 
anxiously desirous of finding its owner, 
impelled by the will to return the treasure, 
and not without the fear that the thing 
might be exposed, and her husband ren- 
dered liable to be arrested. Sure enough, 
by her own inquiries, suspicion was start- 
ed, and the officer came to the house and 
arrested the drunken thief. The officer, 
when he ascertained that the man was 
wealthy, asked what in the world could 
have induced him to steal . Of course the 
reply was, he could not tell, for he did not 
know himself. The thief was committed 
to jail and kept there several days. The 
owner of the purse was as much intoxicated 
as the thief at the time it was stolen, and 
he was very much surprised when he 
learned that his friend had stolen it. It 
was known to all concerned that the purse 



82 

was taken without design, and the case was 
dismissed. 

There are without douht many persons 
who steal, not because they really need the 
articles of which they feloniously deprive 
their neighbor, but because of the desire to 
possess themselves of the property of others 
which the accursed liquor-cup produces. 
It were a dangerous practice on this ac- 
count. He that is accustomed to the in- 
dulgence had better take the warning in 
time, or he may go out on his spree in the 
night, and w r ake up in the morning and 
find himself in jail, confined there for 
stealing ; for stealing what he did not want 
in a fit of drunkenness. And the next 
thing may be the trial in court, then the 
conviction, the sentence, and the home for 
a number of years in the penitentiary. 
There will be time enough for repentance 
in the State's prison. Then you may wish 
you had never been born, or that some rock 
of the mountain had fallen upon you and. 
crushed you. The life of woe and mourning, 
in the penitentiary is surely not to be de- 
sired. It is surely to be lamented and 



83 

avoided. Let the man that is even disposed 
to drunkenness beware of the ruin and 
wretchedness the habit may produce. Let 
him shun the intoxicating bowl, and none 
of these things may happen to him. 
u Touch not, taste not, handle not the un- 
clean thing." So says an adviser of the 
good book, whose couasel is of the highest 
character, and ought to be considered and 
followed by every one' in the least degree in- 
clined to the inebriating bowl. 

Cases are on record of men who, in 
the indulgence of the habit of drinking 
liquor, absolutely become so stupefied that 
they do not know how much they drink. 
They are not satisfied a single moment that 
the liquor is not running down their throats. 
They burn with thirst after it continually. 
And the more that is drank, the more is 
wanted. Insensibility to everything but 
the dram is produced, and it is most re- 
markable that insensibility to that cannot 
be produced. Stupefied and idiotic, and 
almost paralyzed and insensible to objects 
around, to persons, to home, to everything 
else but liquor, the man will think of 



84 

it, and crave it, and cry for it, and seems 
to be in a condition that lie must have it or 
die. I know of a man that determined to 
have the most extended spree of his life. 
He bought two gallons of brandy and shut 
himself up with it in his chamber. He 
drank the two gallons in two days, and at 
the end of the second dav he was found in 
the room dead. His extended spree cost 
him his life. After he had commenced 
drinking, the desire continued to increase ; 
he could not resist the temptation to con- 
tinue to gratify his desire, and he was 
literally destroyed by the liquor that pro- 
duced the excitement, and caused him to 
proceed with the gratification of his appe- 
tite until his system could endure it no 
longer, when he fell a wretched victim to 
the destroyer. 

Who has not heard of persons who have 
been found dead in their beds after fits of 
drunkenness ? The result is common among 
the drinking classes. Every day coroner's 
juries are called and inquests held over 
the bodies of men who have been found dead 
either in bed or somewhere on the high- 



85 

way, or near some body of water. An over- 
charge of liquor has caused the calamity. 
The verdict of the jury is brought in M death 
from exposure/' " death from intemper- 
ance/ 7 u death by the visitation of Grod." 
In all such cases the destruction has been 
occasioned by liquor. 

The drunkard may become so thoroughly 
overcome as not to know where he is. The 
streets that he has been accustomed to all 
his life, the houses with which he has been 
familiar, his own home, his friends, all are 
strange to him. He drinks his fill in the 
dram shop, and then tries to find his way 
home. The effort fails. He is another 
man, and he might as well be in another 
country. If he lives up the street, he di- 
rects his course down the street in search 
of it. He meets friends but does not know 
them. Nobody can he find that will direct 
him to his home, and the more he walks 
the further he goes from his home. I 
knew of a very ridiculous event that hap- 
pened to a drunkard. It is so ridiculous 
that many people will hardly believe it 
to be true, but it is as true as anything 
1 



86 

that ever happened. A man spent an 
evening in a drinking house. He became 
intoxicated of course. Who ever spent an 
evening in a drinking house and went 
home sober ? This man became thoroughly 
drunk, and while drunk attempted to find 
his way home. He was quite genteelly 
dressed, and was regarded as a respectable 
gentleman when sober, but when drunk he 
was about as good as any other drunken 
man, and no better. In striking for the 
direction of home he took another direc- 
tion. He walked until he was tired, and 
wondered all the time why he did not 
reach home. At last he began to believe 
he was in some other town, and had wan- 
dered outside of the city. He heard a 
sound of something like a voice. And it 
was a voice. He thought it was some of 
his family that was speaking. In his 
thought he was home, and undressed him- 
self and went to bed. He slept very soundly. 
How could he help it? He w^as drunk 
enough to sleep anywhere. In the morn- 
ing he heard a voice calling him. He 
looked up, and there stood a man with a 



81 

pail in his hand. What in the world was 
he doing there. Was he about to throw a 
pail of water upon him ? The drunken 
man raised his head to look, and where was 
he? He was in a hog pen. He had slept 
with a sow and her pigs, ? and the man was 
there with a pail of slop to feed the pigs, 
and it was remarkable that he did not 
throw the slop over the man that was 
snugly reposing among the pigs. His 
clothes were in one corner of the pen, and 
he was stretched out at full length on the 
boards and by the pigs. He was taken 
from the uncomfortable bed on which he 
had slept. The man assisted in dressing 
him, and he turned him loose to find his 
way home if he could. That man could 
never tell how he got into the pig sty. He 
had no recollection of climbing over the 
side, which he must have done. Nor could 
he tell anything but that he was perfectly 
satisfied he was at home and undressed 
himself and got into his own bed. 

The man of the pig sty was an acquaint- 
ance of mine, and I very often joked him 
about his night's adventure. If I had not 



88 

known him I should have supposed the 
story was made up to amuse the people, or 
to frighten drunkards. But it is no made- 
up story. I knew the man well, and have 
often heard him. tell the tale of his drunk- 
en frolic, and of his sleeping soundly 
among the pigs. The sound which he 
mistook for that of a human voice was 
either the grunt of the old sow or a squeal 
of one of her pigs. Strange that a man 
should allow himself to be placed in a 
condition in which he could not distinguish 
the grunt of a sow or the squeal of a pig, 
from the words spoken hy'a friend or a 
supposed member of the family. Such he 
often declared to be the fact, and seemed 
to enjoy the degrading, disgraceful joke. 

There is sufficient evidence in the fore- 
going relation to convince any one that a 
man may be so bewildered and stupefied 
by drunkenness as not to know what he is 
doing. I knew of a terrible case of the 
kind which I relate with sorrow. It is 
that of a young man that was in my em- 
ployment. He never was drunk but once. 
But that once was enough. Its terrible 



89 

result will be remembered by me and by 
others as long as we live. The young man 
went out one night with a number of his 
acquaintances for a spree. He had never 
tried anything of the kind, and was anxious 
to experience the fun of it. They soon be- 
came intoxicated, every one of them. The 
young man of whom T speak, became vio- 
lently crazy. U I will kill somebody to- 
night/ he cried, and away he hurried 
homeward for his revolver. He got pos- 
session of the revolver and returned to his 
friends, swearing that he would kill some- 
body that night. He flourished his revolver, 
and supposed he was the mightiest, bravest, 
most independent man in the world. And 
so he was. Many of his friends thought he 
was joking, and that there was no harm in 
his threat. But they were soon undeceived. 
The young man entered upon a quarrel 
with the keeper of the dram shop where 
there were, and he raised, his revolver and 
shot him dead on the spot. He had never 
seen nor heard of the man he killed, before 
that night, and of course he could have had 

no animosity against him. The murderer 

7* 



• 



90 

was immediately arrested. He was im- 
prisoned until the day of his trial, when he 
was brought into court and soon convicted. 
He was sentenced to the penitentiary for 
fifteen years, and now while I am writing 
he is there in confinement, during the day 
at hard labor^ and during the night in a 
solitary cell. 

What could have induced the notion in 
the mind of the man that he must kill 
somebody ? The liquor he drank must have 
inflamed his brain and produced insanity. 
He could have been impelled to such an act 
by nothing less than insanity. Surely, as 
it is said, the liquor stole away his brains. 
It disordered his mind. It produced the 
wildest, fiercest excitement. It perverted 
all his faculties and sent him forth a man- 
iac, for the commission of the greatest of 
crimes known to human law. Can I do. 
justice to the young man, or the old man, 
or to any persons who may read the narra- 
tive of this unfortunate young man, with- 
out a word of warning? Shun, reader, 
shun the path of the intemperate as you 
would that of the viper. You would not 



V 



91 

risk your life among the poisonous reptiles 
that infest the wild untenanted forest. 
Risk it not among the drunken assemblies. 
Risk it not in the drinking house. You 
may begin with the determination that you 
will never become a drunkard, and you 
may declare every day that you will not 
be a drunkard, and every day that you 
make this declaration you may be pursuing 
the drunkard's path. Deceive not yourself 
with any fancy that you are different from 
others, and that there is no danger of your 
fall. You are like others in yielding to 
the temptation. You are like others in 
the indulgence, in the drunkenness, in the 
night's debauch, and you will be like others 
in the wrong you will commit upon yourself 
and others, and in the ruin in which you 
may end your career. 

Do you know a man that is a mere tippler, 
who is going carelessly along in his career 
of tippling? He may be prosperous in bu- 
siness, and he only takes small drinks, or 
a few a day. u There is no danger of my 
becoming a drunkard/' says he. " My 
drink is a small one, and I only take it 



/ 



92 

four or five times a day." Watch him as 
he passes along in life. He stops regularly 
at certain hours at the dram shop. Four 
times, five times a day he leaves his busi- 
ness for the liquor shop and his dram. 
Now he goes six times, now seven times, 
now more times than he knows. He does 
not wish to count them all. Now he is 
drunk. He is drunk again. He is drunk 
every day. His business is falling off. His 
family are beginning to be in want. He is 
a habitual drunkard. His family is ne- 
glected. He is ruined. His creditors have 
taken his goods and his furniture. He is 
no more seen at his business. Where is 
he ? What has become of him ? He is in 
the almshouse. He is in the prison. He has 
run the drunkard's career. He has died 
in disgrace. This briefly told is the race 
of thousands. Young man, do you not 
know it to be true ? Have you not wit- 
nessed the result in your own short' life ? 
With the fate of the fallen drunkard before 
you, shun the drunkard's habit. Keep out 
of the drunkard's path. Shun the dram 
shop and the dram, and you are safe. 



93 

And how is it the case sometimes that 
the merest accident, which is in itself not 
improper, leads a man into drunkenness 
and ruin ? I knew a man that was in busi- 
ness, and making money. He was as tem- 
perate a man as lived. He never drank 
liquor. He was taken sick, and his phy- 
sician ordered whiskev for his drink. At 
first he refused to take it, declaring he 
did not like it. But he went on with 
the prescription. He took the whiskey as 
medicine three times a day, and before each 
meal. That is about the number of times 
some kinds of medicine are taken. Three 
times ! But after awhile three times would 
not suffice, then it must be four times, 
then, and then, and then, as many times as 
he pleased, and he pleased to drink it all 
the day through. A reverse took place in 
his business, said to be occasioned by the 
troubles that the war produced, but it was 
on account of the whiskey. He was at last 
broken up. The poison of liquor was in 
him, and he was about as badly poisoned as 
he would have been in the slow use of 
arsenic or strychnine. He was at length 



94 

seen staggering through the streets. It 
took the whole pavement for him to pass, 
and every one had to run out of his way. 
One asked him why he threw himself away 
in that manner. He replied : " To drown 
my trouble." He said this while he was 
rapidly making more and more trouble 
every day, and every hour of every day. The 
friend remonstrated with him. Ci Do you 
care for your family ? Look at your heart- 
broken wife, your little helpless children, 
You are destroying them as well as your- 
self. You are making your happy home 
desolate. You are dragging down to ruin 
a pleasant, contented, lovely family. In a 
short time you will be a miserable wreck, 
and your home a ruin. You say you drink 
to drown trouble. Is not every day's drink- 
ing plunging you deeper into trouble ? Are 
you not nearer ruin now than you were 
some time ago ? Can you stand it much 
longer ?" This remonstrance was intended 
for the man's benefit. It was made to 
effect his reformation. But it was all of 
no consequence. He continued his practice 
until the ruin came. He is still a splendid 



95 

wreck. He becomes crazy periodically, and 
has to be taken to the hospital. In a week 
or two he is cured in the hospital, and conies 
out and mingles among his friends. But 
he cannot remain out of the hospital more 
than half his time. It is a pity they do 
not keep him there until he is cured of his 
dreadful disease, or that they do not keep 
him there altogether. He has already 
spoiled a splendid home, and will soon be 
in a drunkard's grave, if not prevented by 
some timelv intervention. 

Reader, ponder well this little narrative. 
Remember the caution it continues all the 
way through. It is caution not only given 
in kindness, but enforced by sad examples. 
The examples are true histories. Every 
one of them is an actual occurrence. Heed 
the reproof here recorded, and you may not 
be broken up in business ; you may not be 
picked up oat of a pig-pen; you may not 
be impelled to the commission of murder, 
and hanged. You may not be conveyed 
periodically to the hospital. Heed the re- 
proof, and none of these things may hap- 
pen to you on account of drunkenness. 



96 

But you may be the respectable bead of a 
happy, loving family, a benefit to your 
neighborhood, an honor to your country, a 
faithful, devoted, useful servant of your 
God. 



THE CURE. 



The Control of the Desire is the Cure of 
Drunkenness. 

As we have spoken of drunkenness as a 
disease, and its danger of relapse, and its 
causes and effects, it is now proper that we 
should say something of its cure. The cure 
of drunkenness is a subject that has been 
considered and written upon by some of the 
ablest men of our own and other countries. 
The best minds of the Medical Profession 
have studied the progress of drunkenness, 
from its beginning to its end, and in the 
closest investigations of man's anatomi- 
cal structure. The effects of intoxicating 
liquors upon the blood, and through the 
blood upon every organ of man's system, 
have been traced and developed. But with 
all that has been done in the relation, no 
one has been able to discover the prescrip- 
8 



98 

tion that will cure it. Like consumption 
and diseases of the heart and other vital 
organs, it must work its ravages without a 
cure in all the volumes and annals of the 
Medical Profession. In consequence of the 
inability to discover a remedy among the 
Medical works or in Medical science, it has 
been denied that drunkenness is a disease. 
But of this there can be no question. If 
delirium tremens is a disease, and if insan- 
ity is a disease, nay, if small-pox is a dis- 
ease, drunkenness is a disease. The fact is 
now admitted by the most learned and dis- 
tinguished men of the Medical Profession. 

Notwithstanding all the learning and 
professional skill and anatomical labor that 
have been employed on the subject, no spe- 
cific has vet been discovered that can be 
recommended as a remedy,, nor has any 
method of prescribing been developed that 
can do more than ameliorate and cure the 
diseases that are caused by drunkenness. 
The root of the disease has not been reached, 
and speculation is still indulged, to a great 
extent, upon the subject. 

Under the circumstances thus presented, 



99 

it must not be expected of me that I shall 
do more than the wisest of men have been 
able to do in this important relation. I 
have some remarks to make upon the sub- 
ject, however, and will present them in as 
close an examination of the subject as has 
yet been reached. 

"When I say that no cure for drunkenness 
has been discovered, I allude to the malady 
as a disease of the physical system. If I 
consider the disease in its moral de- 
velopment alone, I would at once name the 
cure. Drunkenness, as a moral develop- 
ment, can be cured and has been cured 
frequently. And were the drunkard to ex- 
ercise his moral powers as he might do it, 
he would soon be relieved of his trouble. 
Considered as a moral question, the cure of 
drunkenness is abstinence. If the man never 
drinks intoxicating liquors, he will never 
be a drunkard ; and if he ceases to drink 
intoxicating liquors after he has become 
a drunkard, the disease will certainly be 
cured. It requires the cause to produce 
the effect. The cause in this question is 
the drinking of the liquor ; the effect of 



100 

the cause is drunkenness. Eeniove the 
cause, and the effect will cease as a matter 
of course. But it is said this is the old 
song ; and so it is. It is indeed the old 
song ; but I desire to sing it, and to have it 
sung by every other man. I desire to sing 
it, and to have it sung to every tune that 
has yet been discovered, and in every way 
and place in which drunkenness may be 
reached. Abstinence is the cure — the moral 
cure, and if the drunkard cannot exercise 
the moral force necessary to cure his dis- 
ease, it is because he has made himself 
much less a man than Gi-od ever made him, 
or intended he should ever be. In the wreck 
of his moral powers, which is accomplished 
by drunkenness, the man not only reduces 
his character and condition as a man, but 
actually destroys himself. 

The moral force of drunkenness, or per- 
haps better said, the moral imbecility of 
drunkenness, appears in the fact, that the 
drunkard will persist in his vicious career 
until his family and himself are reduced to 
beggary, and he will even then persist in 
its progress, and never cease while a spark 



101 

of life is left in his system. In beggary 
and want and disease, tie will call for his 
dram, and it does seem as if the last lin- 
gering pulse craves the excitement pro- 
duced by intoxicating liquor. 

In the consideration of the moral force of 
the disease, I may say not only that it can 
be cured, but that it has been cured. And 
how has it been done ? The question is easily 
answered. Men have been convicted of 
crimes and sentenced to prison . Fortunate- 
ly for them, while in the prison, there was 
no liquor to be had. The abstinence neces- 
sary to cure the disease has been practiced, 
and the disease cured. But it may be said 
that the disease was cured by compulsion, 
and would break forth again when the re- 
straint was removed. In many cases this 
is true, but in many other cases the reverse 
is true. Many men have become temperate 
in prison, and have continued so after they 
were released. In their cases the cure has 
been effectual. The cure, then, is in the re- 
moval of the cause. Why not, then, labor 
in each case for the removal of the cause ? 

But the confinement of the prison is not 
8* 



102 

the only agency by which drunkenness has 
been cured. After a severe spell of sick- 
ness^ during which abstinence has been ne- 
cessary, the man has persevered in carrying 
out the moral idea, and succeeded in effect- 
ing a permanent cure of his disease. The 
principle is the same in such cases as these 
as it is in the abstinence through imprison- 
ment. And the result through the working 
of the principle is the same. The cause of 
the drunkenness was interfered with and 
broken, and as a matter of course, the effect 
ceased. 

In the case of a man that fell from the 
top of his house, on which he had wandered 
in a fit of delirium tremens, and broke his 
arm, the moral force is still more apparent. 
The sudden shock to his system brought 
him to his senses, and the suffering caused 
by his broken limb forced him to the con- 
sideration of his condition, and he never 
could be prevailed upon to drink intoxicat- 
ing liquors afterwards. In the practice of 
abstinence he became a sober man, and con- 
tinues so to this day, although it has been 
more that twenty years since the accident 
happened to him. 



103 

Again , the moral force is still further 
apparent in cases in which persons have 
lost their friends or relatives by death. 
The determination has been formed, and 
the person has been cured of the disease. 
Cases of this kind are not so frequent as they 
might be, if the persons interested would 
properly consider their condition in view of 
the certainty of their own death, and of 
the uncertainty of the time at which it will 
occur. The full force of this consideration 
is seldom experienced. The man that is in 
health feels his powers of life in their ac- 
tive exercise, and in such feeling there is 
nothing like death or failure, and although 
every day there is evidence afforded of life's 
uncertainly., he goes on without being able 
to realize the fact and certainty of his own 
dissolution. 

Eeader, in the considerations above pre- 
sented, do you not see that all that is re- 
quired in the reformation of a drunkard is 
resolution. The resolution formed and 
kept is the cure of this terrible, afflictive 
disease. And what man is there that claims 
his condition and character as a man, that 



104 

cannot form and keep his resolution. There 
is no doubt that in most cases of ordinary 
drunkenness the resolution thus directed 
would be sufficient for the accomplishment 
of the purpose. Men have tried the experi- 
ment in various ways, and succeeded. Oth- 
ers have failed. Some have joined the tem- 
perance society, and taken the pledge of ab- 
stinence. This is a noble work and ought 
to be pursued with energy and vigor. It 
is a sad thing that the cause of temperance 
should decline, and drunkenness be allowed 
to work its way without interruption. Let 
the temperance societies be sustained. Let 
their members renew their determination to 
carry them on and enforce their rules. 
They have been the means of saving thou- 
sands from the drunkard's grave, and 
should never cease their labors while there 
is a drunkard to be saved. The renewal of 
the temperance cause would be one of the 
best events that could be produced at the 
present time. Such a cause should never 
want reviving. It should ever be in pro- 
gress, andever onitsincreaseinmembers and 
labors, and in the fruits of its good works. 



105 

But, after all, the best remedy for drunk- 
enness is religion. God never fails in the 
fulfilment of his promises to mankind, and 
He has promised that He will be with and 
protect every one that is obedient to Him 
in the keeping of His commandments. I 
have heard of hundreds who have been 
saved by joining the church. I know per- 
sonally many persons who have pursued 
this course, and have succeeded to the ut- 
most of their expectations. The church is 
a sure safeguard. Only respect and obey 
its principles, injunctions and laws, and 
safety is secured. Many men have tried 
every other experiment — first the resolu- 
tion, then the oath before a magistrate, 
then the temperance pledge, then pledge to 
the minister, and last of all, the church. 
And here they were secure. Trusting in 
God, they renounced the trust in them- 
selves, and looked to Him for strength and 
support in the purpose and pursuit. While 
a man looks to God and prays for grace, 
he ceases to trust in himself, and the very 
fact that he looks to God and prays for 
grace will be sufficient to sustain him. No 



106 

man can pray to God without being sincere, 
and sincere and devoted prayers offered to 
God will be heard and answered. There is 
mystery in this sort of help. And the most 
mysterious part of it is its success. No man 
ever yet trusted God and was disappointed. 
No man ever yet trusted in God for sup- 
port in a reformed life, and failed. If fail- 
ure ensued, it was because there was failure 
in the trust. The failure was in the man, 
not in God. And the fruits of this mystery 
may be realized by every drunkard. He 
may resolve and trust in God, and in the 
pursuit of his resolution and trust, he will 
surely be saved. 

Eeader, there is a cure for drunkenness. 
It is in' yourself. It is in the moral force 
of the man. You may damage and destroy 
this moral force, and you may use it in 
your present and everlasting security. If 
you are in the habit of using intoxicating 
liquors, cease the habit, or as sure as your 
death is in the future, so is your ruin, per- 
haps death, in the pursuit of ruin. Are you 
a drunkard ? Eesolve on your reformation, 
oin the church, and pray to God to give 



107 

you grace and strength to fight the tattle 
with your enemy, and you will find that 
G-od is greater than your enemy, and that 
in Him you are safe. 



THE RELAPSE. 



Old Causes Eenew the Desire, and Produce the 

Eelapse, 

Every disease lias its liability to relapse. 
None more so than that of drunkenness. 
The seat of the disease being in the desire 
for liquor, unless the cause be removed in 
the removal of the desire there is danger 
of a renewal of the disease, and as it is 
with all relapses in the development of 
worse and more dangerous features than 
attended the first form of the attack. 

The causes of relapse in this disease are 
numerous. In some cases, after the cure 
has been effected, the subjects of the dis- 
ease act as the doctors advise in relation to 
other maladies, that is, keep out of the way 
of danger in exposure to the causes which 
produced the first attack. The first idea in 
this relation is associated with the old com- 



109 

panionships. The reformed inebriate is 
warned to keep away from the dram-shop. 
This is a prominent feature in the exposure. 
There is as much danger to the reformed 
inebriate in his attendance upon the dram- 
shop as there is in the man who has had 
the small-pox in taking cold by exposure 
to drafts of wind and to hard weather. The 
fall in the one case is as certain as that in 
the other. The issue is almost sure to be 
produced. The desire for the liquor which 
is frequently in sight will most surely re- 
turn with the old considerations and asso- 
ciations that its appearance must bring for- 
ward vividly in the memory. I say to the 
reformed inebriate, keep away from the 
dram-shop, or the sight of the liquor will 
re-produce the old desire, and a second fall 
will certainly follow. 

A second danger to be avoided is the as- 
sociation of the old companions of the dram- 
shop. Many a man who has by hard exer- 
tions reformed his habit and restrained 
his desire, has fallen into this snare, and a 
second time become a drunkard. For a 
time, it may be, he has shunned the old 
9 



110 

walks and tlie old companionships, but by 
degrees the desire lias been revived; the 
old habits reinduced, and the second stage 
of the disease has been worse than the first. 
And how is it that the meeting is effected 
with the old associates ? Sometimes the 
meeting is occasioned by accident, on the 
street, or at a friend's house, and the first 
thoughts of the old friends are those of their 
glee associations. How happy they were 
when, on the occasions of their assembling, 
they engaged in their social cheer. The 
purpose was to forget dull care, and to 
drown all responsibility in the use of the 
intoxicating beverage. And the convivial 
engagement, how delightful it was ! How 
much uproarous joy it produced ! How the 
thrills of excitement rushed through the 
system ! All this was wrought while the 
liquor was stealing away the senses, which 
lasted but a brief period, and then came the 
stupor, and the nausea, and the lassitude, 
and the almost impossibility of motion. 
This reverse in every case was the penalty 
the system had to pay for its brief exhila- 
ration and transient enjoyment. 



Ill 

A third means by which, the reformed 
may be again entrapped is found in politi- 
cal assemblages. Here the parties meet for 
so-called patriotic purposes, and when a 
man feels patriotic unfortunately he feels 
like taking a drink. This is occasioned by 
the reprehensible association of intoxicating 
liquor with political movements. On elec- 
tion days the first thing most men think of 
is fe a spree." They start forth in the early 
morning for the dram, and many are well 
soaked before the hour for opening the polls. 
It has seemed for a number of years past 
among a certain class, that a man is not fit 
to vote unless he is pretty full of whiskey, 
or some other kind of liquor. 

The companions of the old political club 
are among the most dangerous associations 
of the reformed inebriate. If he gets among 
them he is almost sure of the relapse. The 
best way for every one in such condition is 
to keep away from all his old associations, 
whether of the dram-shop, of the former 
friendly greetings, or of the political gath- 
ering. There is danger in evqry step taken 
under such circumstances, and no man that 



112 

well considers his position will risk the con- 
sequences it exhibits. 

There were ball-room associations con- 
nected with the life of the drarn-drinker, 
which were very delightful in their enjoy- 
ment, and afford pleasure in retrospection. 
The fashion ? the beauty, the attractive fea- 
tures of grace and talent and social cheer, 
all have interests which affect the feelings 
and engross the thoughts. A return to the 
ball-room is next thing to a return to the 
dram. The old associations among ladies, 
who unfortunately instead of frowning upon 
the baneful practice of dram-drinking, are 
often found with the glass in their hands 
sipping the beverage, which their male 
associates are drinking to drunkenness. 
They reflect but little, or not at all, upon 
the damage they are doing to society, and 
perhaps the trouble they are laying up for 
themselves. To resist the temptation to 
taste the beverage in such relationship is 
next to impossible for an old dram-drinker, 
and the onlv thins; he can do to save him- 
self is to keep out of the way of the temp- 
tation. 



113 

And is it asked by the young man, must 
I forego the pleasant relationships of society, 
and not mingle among my female compan- 
ions, where most of all I might expect to 
find safety and protection ? It is even as 
suggested. The young votary of the social 
cheer is to keep out of the way of temp- 
tation. If there is temptation in the so- 
ciety of ladies, where there * ought to be 
safety and protection, keep out of that so- 
ciety. There is enough of such association 
that assumes a higher degree of real respect- 
ability than can be claimed by any assem- 
blage in which intoxicating liquors are 
used. The very use of those liquors is de- 
grading, and induces the association that 
indulges to a lower condition than ought to 
be countenanced or tolerated by respectable 
gentlemen and ladies. 

Again, there is the theatre. What 
throngs of young people hurry of an even- 
ing to the theatre? And how their sensi- 
bilities are charmed by the idle whirl which 
the brain experiences under the highly 
wrought fictitious representations of life. 
Did ever a young man or young woman 
9* 



114 

learn a lesson of respectability, or of do- 
mestic duty, or of honorable life at the 
theatre ? And what multitudes there are 
who have been utterly and irretrievably 
ruined by such associations ? Talk of the 
reform of the theatre ! It is now purified 
and redeemed, say its votaries. Purified 
and redeemed! How? In what? The 
old crowds go there. The old associations 
are kept up there. The old cronies still go 
from the box and the pit and the gallery to 
the dram-saloon. The theatre is redeemed, 
because afewfoolish people of respectable life 
are induced to attend it, and a few still more 
foolish members of the church go there oc- 
casionally. 

But is not the danger apparent when the 
young group or the old one, as it may be, 
adjourns from the theatre to the restau- 
rant. What is to be done in the restaurant 
other than talk over the excitement of the 
drama? Why, the oysters are to be en- 
joyed, and the whiskey is to be used. The 
hour of indulgence in these luxuries is not 
to be omitted, notwithstanding the threat- 
ened danger of stupor and indolence and 



115 



sickness next morning. Go not to these as- 
sociations if you wish to persevere in the 
way of reform. The relapse is in their 
issues, and the second fall will assuredly 
plunge you into deeper peril than the 
first. 

Again, in the taste, nay, in the very 
sight of liquor, there is peril in the way of 
the reformed. It may be supposed that a 
glass of ale or cider will do no harm, be- 
cause it may not intoxicate. It is very true 
that there is no harm in a glass of ale or 
cider drank by a temperate person. But re- 
member, the danger is in the renewed 
pleasure the taste or the effect of the liquor 
may produce. Your desire may be slack- 
ened, it may be rendered torpid, but it is 
still in your system. It is still your de- 
sire, and the disease is in the desire, and 
when indulged it is developed as disease. 
Again, I say, keep out of the way. Touch 
not the glass, for thousands have been lost 
by the renewal of the taste after the refor- 
mation. The relapse has followed, and 
has only become the prelude to the forth- 
coming destruction. It was the first glass 



116 

that led to the first fall. It will lead to the 
second, without fail, if indulged. 

Another feature of the danger is in the 
temptation to use liquor for slight diseases 
that may attack the system. The man has 
the headache, whiskey is the remedy. He 
has the backache, whiskey is the perscrip- 
tion — the sovereign balm. He has the 
toothache ! There is nothing like whiskey 
for the toothache. He has bad feelings. 
And what can dispose of such feelings as 
surely and as effectually as whiskey ? He 
has lost a friend or some property, whiskey 
is the antidote. These are temptations 
which the reformed should ever be afraid 
of. They are all lies. Whiskey, instead 
of being a cure for any of these temporary 
maladies, only aggravates them. Many a 
man has the headache and the toothache and 
other slight diseases, in consequence of his 
habit of drinking. The system is disor- 
dered by the use of liquor, and may read- 
ily be affected with attacks from any of 
these sources. Whiskey cannot be a cure 
for any ache. It is the cause of all aches — • 
the heart ache most of all. It makes the 



117 

hearts of whole families aclie on account of 
the drunkenness of one of their members. 
Those who never drink or think of drink- 
ing liquor suffer because their friends and 
relatives have thrown themselves away in 
the practice of dram drinking. 

It was but a little drink that brought on 
the first attack of the disease. Less will 
be required to bring on the relapse. The 
little drink has sent its thousands to the 
grave and to perdition. It is sending its 
multitudes there still. What sort of trifle 
is the little drink to be considered when 
that drink is poison ? So it has been proved 
in the destruction of vast armies of the hu- 
man race. The little drink ! Better that 
any man should take the large drink than 
the little one. Better, why ? Simply be- 
cause he will do his work of destruction the 
faster, and hasten the sooner to its end. 
The little drink ! Header, drink a quart of 
whiskey rather than half a gill. The quart 
will do its work at once, while the half gill 
at a time will but prolong the torture. 
You say, perhaps, that the little drink will 
prolong the enjoyment. So it may, but the 



118 

penalty is at the end of it. And the en- 
joyment ! What is it? A moment's ex- 
citement for hours of depression, A tran- 
sient exhilaration for a permanent languor. 
Drink your full at once, and be done with 
it, rather than tipple and prolong the torture 
of the drunkard's career. Surely, after the 
first fall, after the first trial of drunkenness, 
you will not be willing to experience the 
wretchedness endured in it a second time. 
Think of the dark side when you are 
tempted, 'think of the dying of the liquor 
within you, and the languor and stupor and 
pain it produces, and not of the exhilara- 
tion and the enjoyment. The pleasure is 
not worth the price you must pay for it ; 
and remember that the second stage of the 
disease will be worse than the first, the re- 
lapse will carry you lower than the original 
attack. 

Philosophically speaking the risk of a re- 
lapse is ridiculous in the view of common 
sense. Has the man been attacked with 
severe illness, by taking cold? When he 
recovers, how careful is he to avoid ex- 
posure. The physician warns him, the 



119 

family and friends warn him, — he feels the 
necessity himself of exercising the greatest 
caution, lest he should take the second cold 
and be thrown back into his room and upon 
his bed. All this warning, and the care 
and the prudential consideration come of 
the fear of the relapse. The man is regard- 
ed as a lunatic, who will slight the warning 
and dare the danger. This is the judg- 
ment of philosophy, in its witness and con- 
demnation of the imprudence of the man 
who has suffered from a physical malady. 
And is the case of the reformed inebriate 
different, philosophically considered ? By 
no means. The reprehensibility of the ac- 
tion is as great in the one case as it is in 
the other. It is the exposure that induces 
the relapse, and when the destructive ten- 
dencies arise and work their way of prostra- 
tion and suffering, where is the difference 
as far as the result is concerned ? 

But the plea is entered that it is the na- 
tural tendency of the desire once gratified, 
to seek its gratification again. This is 
true. But it is this natural tendency that 
is to be resisted. The natural tendency is 



120 

the natural cause. In the case of the other 
diseases, it is the natural tendency that is 
to be avoided. The exposure to the second 
attack is in the natural tendency. It is in 
this that the danger consists. Nature 
craves her gratification. This is the cause 
of ruin in all instances of self-indulgence. 
Resist then the natural tendency. Eesist 
it with your might. Eesist in the deter- 
mined purpose of being successful. Eesist 
it as a means of fortifying yourself against 
the assaults of an enemy which is so in- 
sidious and so seducing and so certainly 
destructive, as to work its way of ruin, 
while you are witnessing its effects and ex- 
periencing its enjoyments. 

And again, it is often supposed, that after 
years of abstinence have elapsed, and the 
person is strengthened and confirmed in his 
habits of soberness and propriety, a little 
indulgence may be enjoyed without danger. 
This is a fearful error. The desire for the 
liquor may never be eradicated from the 
system of one who has once indulged. It 
may lie dormant. Like certain birds and 
insects during the cold season, it may be in 



121 

a condition of torpor, but it is still there. 
It is still in the system. The passage of 
years of abstinence, may obscure it deeply, 
but while the man lives it is not dead. It 
may be revived, and it will be revived if 
the causes are applied. The birds and in- 
sects that have lain torpid in winter, revive 
and return when the warmth of the spring 
weather operates in the re-animation of 
their forms. So with the reformed in- 
ebriate. The desire is in him, and will be 
there as long as he lives, and as certainly as 
the warmth revives the birds and insects, 
and as fire causes the explosion of powder, 
so sure will the cause of renewal operate 
upon the latent desire of the old inebriate, 
whenever the means of such renewal mav 
be applied. 

The man who is engaged in business, re- 
quires that every moment of his time should 
be employed in the same. There are none 
of his moments that can be spent in the 
restaurant. If he is seen in such places, 
his failure may be predicted with certainty. 
I have known many such, who have neg- 
lected their business, for the pleasure they 
10 



122 

supposed they enjoyed, drinking and gam- 
bling among their friends of the dram-shop. 
It was well enough, understood by their 
neighbors, that they were on the track, and 
at some no distant day would wind up. 
As supposed and believed, so it has happen- 
ed. The neglect of business was the cause 
that produced the failure, and it had to 
take place. The promise -of better action 
in a reformed life, has encouraged creditors 
to extend time, and allow further credit, 
and the merchant has made a new start, 
and proceeded with new purposes and re- 
newed vigor, but the old desire, led the 
way, and the willing victim followed. He 
loitered near the old places of his ruin, then 
entered, then drank, then came the relapse, 
then became drunk, then was drunk more 
hours than sober, then followed the relapse 
and failure. In the second relapse and fail- 
ure there was a total wreck. The man was 
left without a hope — a hopeless, hapless 
ruin. Merchant, look around you, and see 
how many of your profession have gone down 
in this way. In your view think of your- 
self, and be assured that if the propensity 



123 

is in you, and you indulge it, that such 
will be your fate. Human nature is the 
same in you that it is in others, and whis- 
key will have the same effect upon it. 
Drink, and you are undone. Touch not the 
inebriating bowl, and you may be safe. 

And many are the professional men, both 
young and old, that have been dragged 
down from the- lofty eminence and from 
the place of promise. I remember the case 
of a distinguished medical practitioner who 
was fond of his glass. He was a professor 
in one of the medical colleges of Maryland. 
He was one of the most talented men of his 
profession, and he was highly respected by 
all the members of his profession, and much 
beloved by the students that attended his 
lectures. Once he was discovered in a 
boozy condition, and his lecture was inter- 
spersed with such nonsense as could not be 
understood. A middle aged man, who was 
a student, said to a number of his associ- 
ates, u our old professor will soon go down 
the hill. He is on the slope, and it will not 
be long before he reaches the bottom." 
As predicted so it came to pass. One slide 



124 

after another happened, and he was at last 
unfit to lecture and as unfit for his prac- 
tice. He spent a small fortune that he 
had gathered in his better days, and be- 
came both a drunkard and a beggar. He 
was supported by charity until he died. 
And many was the wish that w^as uttered 
that he might soon get through. His 
friends became tired of serving him. They 
appropriated reluctantly the money neces- 
sary for his support, and wished him out of 
the way. And as desired so it happened. 
He fell when he was old, and w T hen there 
was hope that he would be able to maintain 
his character, his respectability to the end 
of life. Such would have been the case had 
it not been for the desire for liquor. The 
desire was gratified. He went down in 
gratifying it. By the assistance of his 
friends he rallied and worked on again for 
some time. The old friends and patrons 
returned to him, and Richard seemed to be 
himself again. But the destroyer returned, 
and the second fall was effected. Another 
reform was induced, and another rally took 
place, only to become the prelude to the 



125 

third overturning. The downward race, 
after the second relapse, was rapid, and he 
was soon out of the way of those who so 
ardently wished it. This case of the pro- 
fessional man is not a solitary one. There 
are plenty on the record. Beader, if you 
are a professional man, you have hours that 
you devote to study. Spend them in the 
pursuit of your profession, and not at the 
restaurant. If you spend your hours in 
the pursuit of your business you will doubt- 
less succeed, but if you spend them at the 
ale-house you will assuredly fail and fall, 
and your friends, or the city or county will 
have to support you. If the city or county 
has to come forward to your support'it will 
be in the almshouse. So beware of the 
tempter, and shun it, and the fate of the 
fallen man may not be yours. 

And the mechanic too has fallen. Oh 
how often — fallen once, twice, thrice — fallen 
never to be recovered. How many young 
men have served their apprenticeship in 
faithful labors, and as soon as they were 
free or some time afterward, have become 
addicted to the use of liquor. Not. only 
10* 



126 

the wasted hours were not to be restored, 
but the lost character was not to be recov- 
ered. More rapidly than the fortune and 
the character were made, they were lost. 
It is a sad sight that sometimes appears in 
the form of the able and well experienced 
mechanic, first on the topmost rounds of 
the ladder of success, and then at the bot- 
tom. It required a long period of activity 
and industry and perseverance, to reach the 
place near the summit. But it required 
but a short time to fall from it. And then 
comes the constant pressure of the necessity 
of making the effort for recovery. It may 
operate successfully, but there is danger 
again in the prospect of the relapse, and in 
the relapse there may be the ruin, without 
the prospect or the hope of being restored. 
A second and third reformation may possi- 
bly take place, but the result is extremely 
doubtful. 

Men of mechanical enterprise and talent, 
be not deceived by the false hope that you 
can act with yourself as you please. De- 
ceive not yourself with the idea that you 
may recover your lost character and busi- 



127 

ness whenever you may determine to do so. 
You may contiol the winds as readily as 
your own habits, once they are set and 
confirmed. Your only hope is in the absti- 
nence that will save you from the ruin to 
which your indulgence will surely lead 
you. 

Merchant, professional man, 'mechanic- 
listen to the voice of reason. You have 
intelligence. You possess reasoning facul- 
ties. You can reason from premises and 
judge from facts. You can draw conclu- 
sions from premises, and understand how 
it is that the logic of facts is indisputable. 
Argue the case with yourselves. Witness 
the result a thousand times repeated, of 
the practice you indulge. The wreck, the 
ruin, the poverty, the wretchedness, the 
degradation, all are in the path of drunk- 
enness. The ruins lie all along the path- 
way of the inebriate. 

Abstinence, total abstinence, is the true 
and effective remedy for the reformed drunk- 
ard. Every one who is in this condition 
should ever preserve in memory the dread 
of the relapse. It were better to suffer in 



128 

the mental anxiety that the fear of falling 
produces, than to fall and realize the wretch- 
edness that the almost hopeless condition 
of a second fall produces. 



THE GOOD SALESMAN. 



Keader, are your prospects for the future 
all bright and beautiful and attractive? 
Has your success secured your happiness, 
and are you now surrounded with plenty, 
and happy in the society of your friends? 
If such be your condition you doubtless 
would like to be intrusted with the secret 
of knowing how to resist all the efforts that 
maybe made to dispossess you of your enjoy- 
ment and reduce you to poverty, want and 
degradation. If you would like to be 
intrusted with such secret give close atten- 
tion to the following account of a very 
prosperous salesman, one whom it would 
have been very hard to excel in his busi- 
ness. When the person to whom I have 
reference as the good salesman commenced 
his career, he was about twenty-five years 
of age ; of very prepossessing personal ap- 



130 

pearance, and most pleasant and attractive 
in his conversation. His style was really 
eloquent and easy, and very agreeable in 
manners. When speaking, you could not 
but be favorably impressed by his rich, full 
and persuasive voice. In fact he possessed 
every qualification necessary to win the fa- 
vor of all with whom he met in the business 
walks of life. As a salesman, his abilities 
were of the highest order. He possessed 
the 1 happy faculty of adapting himself to 
nearly every customer ; and seldom permit- 
ted one to escape without being persuaded 
to make a purchase. This faculty of adapt- 
ing one's self in manners and conversation 
to the various circumstances of disposition, 
taste and means, is no trifling accomplish- 
ment. Every one who is acquainted with 
mercantile pursuits, will readily acknowl- 
edge the truth of this declaration. By his 
tact in the management of his superior 
powers our salesman brought to his employ- 
ers many advantages and much profit, and 
he was in turn remunerated with a salary 
of fifteen hundred dollars a year, which, 
for the times, was considered a good one. 



131 

Few employees of the mercantile profession 
received that sum. 

At the age of twenty-six the young man 
married an accomplished young lady, whose 
family were highly respectable, though not 
wealthy. The match was an excellent one, 
and everything went on pleasantly and 
prosperously for several years. Unfortun- 
ately, however, he contracted the habit of 
taking some of his customers to a very 
fashionable restaurant near the store. His 
visits at first were to obtain a snack. Then 
a glass of ale, then something stronger. 
He was always successful in learning if his 
customer indulged in stimulating beverage, 
which indulgence he was of course com- 
pelled to gratify. One visit a day was the 
starting point in this new and dangerous 
practice. It is a practice which is often 
encouraged by merchants who desire to 
make all they can out of their clerks and 
salesmen. That it is reprehensible and 
disgraceful is apparent in the unfortunate 
results that almost always follow its pur- 
suit. Although our salesman began with 
a visit a day, it was not long before he could 



132 

be seen with his customer three or four 
times during the hours devoted to business, 
At every visit, he not only invited his cus- 
tomer to drink, but in gentlemanly cour- 
tesy, was obliged to drink himself. On 
some occasions it was found to be very 
pleasant to prolong the stay in the good 
company and engage in the pleasant em- 
ployment of talking and smoking. Several 
drams were purchased and paid for and 
drank and enjoyed, on each occasion of these 
business engagements. In the course of 
his progress the subject of our history be- 
came exceedingly fond of whiskey, which 
became his choice drink. Being one of his 
best customers, the keeper of the restaurant 
always kept on hand for his use a bottle 
labelled £ 'the best/'* This best whiskey 
was about four times as strong as ordinary 
whiskey. It was what liquor dealers call 
fourth proof. Being four times as strong 
as other whiskey ; the fact is apparent that 
its effects were four times more powerful 
and four times more destructive than ordi- 
nary whiskey. It would therefore intoxi- 
cate and kill four times as fast as the ordi- 



133 

nary whiskey. The cliances of the salesman 
on his rapid passage downward were four 
times in number those of persons using 
other whiskies. And this is the stuff that 
is used by the upper classes, so called, of 
society. These classes must have the best, 
and of course they must risk the consequen- 
ces of the fourfold disaster their effects 
must produce. 

Now, reader, let us pause here for a mo- 
ment's reflection. In the first place, what 
do you think of the fashion of the higher 
classes of society, witnessed in the use of 
iC fourth proof whiskey?' The liquor is 
concentrated so that its power may become 
fourfold. m And men are willing to run the 
risk of ruining themselves on account of 
the name of this fashionable indulgence. 
Is not such process of fashion an absurdity ? 
But again, what do you think of a talented 
young man, one possessed of extraordinary 
business powers, that could thoughtlessly 
endanger his constitution and character in 
the use of this highly wrought beverage? 
It may be termed u high " and " best " as 
whiskey, but it is certainly low and worst 
11 



134 

in the consequences it produces. It is cer- 
tainly among the worst and lowest of moral 
evils. The race of the drinker of this con- 
centrated poison must be measured in fig- 
ures as four times as fast and four times 
shorter than that of the man who disgraces 
himself by the use of cc bad whiskey ; as 
his beverage. 

But to return to our story. At the first 
of his drinking the salesman did not fancy 
the fourth proof as well as he did some 
other brand. But the extra bottle had its 
attractions, and besides it was fashionable 
among the better sort of people. It being 
the beverage of the extra class of society, 
caused it to secure for itself the favor of the 
best judges, and to become the delight of 
all who had the means ' of purchasing it. 
In a little while, so enamored with his new 
idol did the salesman become, that the 
drams of the restaurant were not sufficient. 
He must have some of the best brand at 
home, and whenever his friends came to see 
him, the extra was set out, and many extra 
drinks were called for. And w T hen the 
friends did not come the drinks and the 



135 

extra drinks were all taken when the advan- 
cing inebriate was alone. It sometimes 
happened thac the salesman met a customer 
who refused to accompany him to the res- 
taurant for the drams. Then the frown of 
displeasure appeared on his countenance, 
and he pitied in his heart the weakness of 
the man who would not take a drink. He 
thought it was a poor kind of man that had 
no taste for " good whiskey." Poor delu- 
ded man ! He had lost his sensibility and 
moral force as a well-bred gentleman, and 
felt disposed to hate and to curse every one 
that declined his sociable invitations to 
taste the friendly glass. 

Notwithstanding the rapidity with which 
the subject of our history made his progress, 
there were moments when he felt sadlv 
enough. They were moments of better 
feeling when his conscience was doing its 
work and causing him to feel that he was 
wasting his means, undermining his health 
and preparing a life of future wretchedness 
not only for himself but for his interesting 
family. These thoughts, however, were 
not allowed long to occupy his mind. They 



136 

were thrown off as soon as possible and the 
onward progress of drunkenness pursued. 
The desire for liquor soon became a disease 
as it frequently does, and then resistance 
was not to be considered. 

When a man reaches this stage of his 
progress, unless arrested by some fortunate 
event of Providence, his case becomes hope- 
less. He has pursued his way until the 
disease begins to prey upon him, and like 
other diseases it must be cured by confine- 
ment and medicine. Whenever intoxica- 
ting liquors get the better of the sys- 
tem, the liquor is required to steady the 
nerves, it is said. So it was with our friend, 
the salesman. His nerves were greatly 
disordered by the effects of the liquor, and it 
seemed to be necessary to brace them up by 
the continual use of it. Whenever the 
whiskey began to lose its effects in his sys- 
tem he began to tremble, and he could not 
pursue his daily avocation without the rep- 
etition of the dram every hour. Then the 
run round to the restaurant was a matter 
of necessity, and its repetition a thing of 
frequent occurrence. 



137 

And now how were the evenings of the 
salesman spent? At home with his wife 
and children as was once the case ? Alas, 
no ! Every evening had its demands for 
the draught, and the restaurant was the 
place where it was usually t obtained. Oc- 
casionally, however, a party of boon com- 
panions would call at the house for the pur- 
pose of trying the good whiskey, and while 
the wife was in her room weeping in the 
bitterness of a broken heart, and the inno- 
cent, unconscious children were sleeping, 
the hail fellows were in the parlor drinking 
and carousing, and making the once peace- 
ful, and happy home of industry and frugal- 
ity, hideous with the fumes of liquor and 
cigar smoke. In vain did the wife impor- 
tune and implore a renunciation of the habit 
which she saw was becoming inveterate in 
its hold upon her husband. In spite of her 
remonstrances of affection and her tears, 
the dread experiment was to be tried, and 
the well educated, capable, talented and 
influential member of society was to hasten 
forward i$ his career until the desolation 
and the ruin should appear. 
11* 



138 



At this stage of the inebriate's progress 
it did not require the customer to induce 
the visit to the dram-shop. In fact he had 
sometimes to leave his customer in the store 
and hurry around for his liquor. One in- 
vitation for the purchaser was enough dur- 
ing one visit, and frequently before the 
time arrived for the customer to take the 
drink the salesman had taken it several 
times. 

I have often noticed what a number of 
friends a man has when he passes the bot- 
tle around freely. Men will go to see their 
friends and associates when the dram is ex- 
pected, w T hen nothing else can induce them 
to do it. And how anxious they are on 
behalf of the friend that has the whiskey? 
He must be thought of and toasted when 
he is not present, and he must be visited as 
often as decency will admit. And how 
kindly and affectionately do these visitors 
inquire after the health of the family — the 
wife and the children for whom they have 
no more concern than if they did not exist ; 
and if the bottle is not soon forthcoming 
after they are seated in the parlor, they be- 



139 

gin to get impatient and to look around as 
if something was missing. What do drink- 
ing men care for wives and children ? The 
sham of the inquiry in relation to them is 
generally an insult and would be so re- 
garded if the dram did not settle all ques- 
tions of all kinds, and preserve friendships 
and associations that could not exist with- 
out it. 

Header, if you are a dram drinker and 
make such calls as I have described, you 
know it is the whiskey you want, and that 
if you have to wait a few minutes longer 
for it than your desire admits of, you get 
impatient. When you first entered your 
friend's parlor you asked after his wife and 
children, and you seemed to be very earnest 
in your inquiry in relation to them. Now 
be candid with yourself and answer the 
inquiry to your own conscience. If after 
you had waited longer than you expected 
for the dram and it did not appear, if one 
of your friend's children had entered the 
room, would you not have felt like kicking 
it out ? You know this to be the case, and 
you know that you were half mad with 



140 

your friend himself for keeping you so long 
waiting for tlie whiskey. And do you not 
remember asking him for it when hd* was 
tardy in bringing it forfcfc, or rather when 
in your burning desire for the liquor you 
thought he was tardy in producing it? 

What a sham is all such friendship as 
this, and how the manly character would 
spurn it ! No man that is a man, and 
none but the thing the whiskey has left 
could play the part either of the visitor or 
visited under such circumstances. 

Oar salesman had now become what is 
called a hard drinker, and drank more 
than his constitution would bear. He be- 
gan to fail in his business qualities, and his 
employers complained that he made mis- 
takes, and could not succeed in selling 
goods as formerly. Nor was it unfrequently 
the case that when the customer came in 
the salesman was out in search of his dram. 
This sort of action did not suit the employ- 
ers. They were very sorry that their friend 
who had formerly rendered them such val- 
uable service and had made them so much 
money should have thrown himself away, 



141 

as they said, but their business must be 
attended to and they were not disposed to 
pay fifteen hundred dollars a year salary to 
a man that spent so much of his time in 
the restaurant. It was not pleasant for 
them to be obliged several times a dav to 
send for him to return from the dram-shop 
and attend to their business. And after all, 
very frequently when he returned to the 
store he was so drunk that he could not sell 
goods and only made a fool of himself in 
the presence of the customer who would 
leave the store in disgust, and that never 
to return to it. His bland and amiable dis- 
position was entirely destroyed by his in- 
dulgence and he became impetuous and 
fretful, and frequently insulting. On one 
occasion that was discovered, he called a 
customer a fool because he required a com- 
parison to be made between two different 
qualities of the same kind of goods. He 
said his word was sufficient and if this did 
not answer the goods could be put upon 
the shelves. At the moment it happened 
that one of his employers was passing, or 
rather he was moving about at a little dis- 



142 

tance and watching what was going on. He 
stepped forward, pushed the salesman aside, 
apologized to the customer for his condi- 

a. O 

tion, and succeeded in making a sale which 
the drunkenness of his agent would have 
prevented. 

As may he supposed, such conduct was 
insupportable. The employers of our fallen 
salesman held a brief interview, when it was 
determined that he should be discharged. 
One of them approached the salesman as he 
stood in a half stupor by the counter and 
told him his services were no longer re- 
quired. 

"Do you mean to discharge me?" he 
inquired in a boozy manner. 

a We do, certainly/ was the reply. 

" "What do you discharge me for? 

"For drunkenness/' 

" Drunkenness. I'm not drunk.' 

"Not drank, what then?" 

" Only a little in for it," 

"Well, my friend, you are too much in 
for it to do us justice, and have been so for 
such a length of time that our business has 
suffered greatly in your hands, and we must 



143 

decline your further services, at least until 
you cease your use of intoxicating liquors 
and re-possess yourself of your powers as a 
sober man." 

"Well, that's fine. I made you all 
the money you've got, and now you dis- 
charge me. Well, I'm not dead yet, and 
I'll be revenged. Yes, I'll be smashed if 
you shan't hang for it." 

" You are not in a condition now to talk 
about your affairs. You had better go 
home and become sober, and reflect upon 
your conduct. Here is the amount due 
you for your services. You had better 
take it and go home and give it to your 
wife." 

Saying this the employer placed the 
amount due the salesman in his hands and 
left him. He stood a few moments in a 
mood of stupid thought, and left the store, 
but instead of returning to his home he went 
to the restaurant, where he drank until he 
was beastly drunk, and was laid out at full 
length on a settee in a side passage. While 
he laid there exposed to the view of every 
one that passed, he was robbed of his 



144 

money and of his watch, and of everything 
of value in his possession. He laid several 
hours in his drunken sleep, when he awoke, 
and in a bewildered state asked where he 
was and how he came there, The keeper 
of the restaurant told him that he was 
drunk and in his way, and that he had 
placed him in the passage to relieve him- 
self of the trouble he occasioned him. 
c: And what did you do it for ?' he asked. 

u To get you out of the way," was the 
reply. 

u Out of the way — out of the way, he ! 
Me in the way. Where's the money I spent 
here ? Where's the custom I brought you ? 
Me in the way, he ! ha ! ha ! Well, I'll 
get out of the way." 

Here the restaurant keeper left the 
wretched man, and he stood a while prop- 
ped against the wall, and soliloquized. 
cc Turned out — dismissed. In the way. 
Must get out of the wav. In the way in 
the store where I made the money ! In 
the way in the grog shop where I spent 
the money ! In the way, and must get out. 
Here man, give me another glass of whis- 



145 

key — the best, mind, fourth proof — -the 
best. I'm going it ! Dismissed. Kicked 
out ! Give me the best. I've had the best 
first, and I'll have the best last. Here, 
give me the whiskey \" 

All this and much more was boisterously 
uttered in the passage, to the amusement 
of a few persons who were passing in and 
out, and to the annoyance of the proprietor 
of the house, but no one gave the poor crea- 
ture any attention. His vehement calls 
for more whiskey were at length answered 
by the bar-keeper, who came to him 
with the glass, which he was obliged to 
assist in holding to his mouth while he 
drank. When the glass was finished, he 
commenced an examination, fumbling in 
his pockets for his pocket-book to pay for 
the dram, but pocket-book and money were 
gone. Not a cent was left. He could not 
therefore pay for the liquor, when the bar- 
keeper in a rage pushed him into the street. 
He fell upon the pavement in a state of 
perfect intoxication. He laid on the pave- 
ment until the proprietor of the house in 
a rage, sent for a police officer, who had 
12 



146 

him conveyed in a furniture wagon to his 
home. 

The reader may judge of the scene that 
happened at the home of the drunken man. 
Wife and children were thrown into a con- 
dition of surprise and consternation which 
caused them to rush from one place to an- 
other, and to scream in the wildest manner. 
It w r as some time before the wife could be- 
come composed enough to attend him. 
With the assistance of the police officer he 
was put to bed, where he remained until 
he became perfectly sober, when he again 
called for liquor, and threatened to take 
the lives of any persons that dared to resist 
him. Liquor he wanted, and liquor he 
said he would have. It was found impos- 
sible for him to be managed by a woman, 
and it was necessary to keep the children 
out of his way to prevent him from killing 
them. His wife sent for one and another 
of his old drinking friends to assist her in 
his management, but not one of them was 
willing to do it. One or two called, sup- 
posing a supply of whiskey would be af- 
forded, but when they were told what was 
the matter, they left in a hurry. 



U1 

It required but two years from the time 
he began for our salesman to finish his 
career in the store of his employers. How 
brief and how rapid was his course ? Such 
is the result of the drunkard's employment. 
There is no resisting the course or prevent- 
ing the result while the practice of drink- 
ing is continued. There were bright pros- 
pects in the future of our salesman's his- 
tory, but they were all obscured, beclouded 
and darkened by his accursed habit. What 
a waste of desolation was now before him ? 
Utter desolation w^as in the vista of the fu- 
ture. Amid the uncertainties of life's pas- 
sage but one thing was certain. That was 
his - entire ruin. There he was, a poor, 
miserable, forsaken drunkard, with a young 
and interesting family claiming attentions 
and services that his habit had disqualified 
him for rendering. There were no means 
of support for himself and his dependent 
charge but by his own labor, and that he 
was incompetent to render. What was to 
be done ? That was a question more readily 
asked than answered. The accomplished 
salesman was not a salesman now, not be- 



148 

cause there were no goods to sell, nor because 
his services were not wanted, but simply 
because in his wrecked condition he was no 
salesman. He was good for nothing ; there- 
fore he was cast out. 

By locking him up in his room, and ven- 
turing in with caution, and retreating when 
he threatened violence, his wife managed 
to prevent him from getting away from her 
until he was completely sober. When his 
reason returned, he remembered in part the 
scenes through which he had passed since 
his discharge from the service of his em- 
ployers. Realizing his condition, without 
employment, without a cent of money, with 
a wife and children in want of bread, he 
became for the time a maniac. He raved 
and cried, and if there had been a weapon 
in his way he would have destroyed him- 
self. Several hours passed before he could 
be composed. At length he became calm, 
and thought he might obtain a pittance to 
relieve the hunger of his starving children 
from his friend, the keeper of the restau- 
rant. Thither he went as fast as his stiff 
joints and sore frame admitted of motion. 



149 

He told his friend, the rum-seller, what had 
happened, and in lamenting his sad condi- 
tion, asked for a trifle to serve him in the 
emergency of the moment. 

" You owe me a balance often dollars/' 
said the man, whose whiskey had ruined 
the salesman. 

CC I know it," replied the wretched man, 
iC and I will pay you as soon as I can. But 
I am now in need of a very trifle, to buy 
bread for my children." 

" Pay me the ten dollars," said the rum- 
seller, iC and I will lend you a trifle." 

" It is impossible. I'm without a cent." 

ci Then leave my premises." 

"'But I spent a large amount of money 
with you in the last two years, and you 
might give me a dime or so." 

" A dime or so ! Didn't I give you value 
for all the money you spent in my estab- 
lishment ?" 

" Yes, I got the value in whiskey, but 
it has been of no value to me, if it has been 
to you. I'm ruined, and your whiskey 
helped to do it, and now I only want a 
dime." 

12* 



150 

" Do you insult me? Leave the prem- 
ises, or 1 will have you removed/ 

A police officer being sent for, our fallen 
salesman deemed it best to leave his friend, 
who was desirous of assisting the bar-keeper 
in dealing out the drams to waiting cus- 
tomers. 

6i That was cool/' said the proprietor of 
the restaurant to a bystander. u That fel- 
low used my house and my refreshments, 
drinking the best liquors I had, and now 
that he has ruined himself, he comes here 
for help. He tells me of his starving chil- 
dren, as if they were any account to me. I 
gave him full value for all the money he 
ever paid me, and now while he owes me 
ten dollars for liquors he has drank, he 
comes to me for assistance. He shall pay 
the ten dollars, if I have to sell his bed from 
under him. No man shall receive and use 
my property, and not pay me for it/' 

The rum-seller continued talking in this 
way while a number of customers called for 
drink, obtaineditandwentaway; butnot one 
of them seemed to concern themselves about 
his conversation, and none gave a moment's 



151 

consideration to the case of the poor wretch 
he had helped to ruin, and then turned upon 
the street. At length he seized a labelled 
bottle, and drew it from the shelf. " Here/ ' 
said he, " is the very bottle of extra whis- 
key, with its gold label, with which that 
fellow began to drink at my house. And 
he drank out of that bottle to the last. It 
is the extra bottle. Worthy of a prince . 
I kept that bottle filled with the best whis- 
key, fourth proof, for him and his friends. 
And now he has the impudence to ask me 
for a dime. I wish I had collared him, and 
led him to the door, and pitched him out 
upon the pavement. But I'll fix him yet/' 

While the restaurant keeper was en- 
lightening and amusing his customers w T ith 
the rehearsal of the salesman's history, the 
poor man himself was wandering along the 
street, he knew not and seemed to care but 
little where. He was sober and capable of 
reflection. He thought of that very extra 
bottle, out of which he had drank his ruin, 
and vowed for revenge upon the bottle, and 
the man that owned it. 

Wonderful it is that the rum-seller could 



152 

abuse the salesman, and threaten him with 
damage, while not a thought of his own 
agency in his ruin occurred to him, and the 
salesman could meditate upon the bottle 
and the rum-seller and the ruin to which 
he was reduced, and not entertain the first 
idea of his own a^encv in working the evil 
that had come upon him. This is witness, 
plain and palpable,- of the selfishness of 
mankind. Each desires all he can secure, 
no matter how or at what cost, and the self- 
appropriation is made of whatever can be 
secured, without a moment's concern for 
any one else, and disregarding the meas- 
ures and means by which it maybe secured. 
It was that extra bottle that run the 
salesman into the loss of all he had. It 
desolated his home, blunted and benumbed 
his own mental powers, brought disease 
upon his body, and left him a poor, pitiful 
wreck of what was once an intelligent, ac- 
tive^ accomplished man. How certain is 
the fall of the dram-drinker ? He begins on 
the best. He ends on anything he can get. 
He begins a man of power and means and 
abilities. He ends a wreck — a ruin. 



15 



Q 



The restaurant keeper was as good as his 
word in the threat he issued, that he would 
force the payment of the ten dollars the 
ruined salesman owed him. He obtained 
a warrant, and had it executed in the 
seizure and sale of about three times the 
quantity of furniture than the original 
price of which would have paid the debt. 
The loss of this furniture reduced the family 
a degree lower in the scale of suffering. 
The want of it was experienced much more 
by the wife than by any one else, but she 
bore the trial with apparent composure. 

How kind, how considerate was the keeper 
of the restaurant while the character of the 
salesman was good, and his money and 
credit lasted. He kept the extra bottle for 
him. Whether or not it always had the 
extra liquor in it, is a question which he 
would hardly like to answer. How often the 
bottle was emptied, is'not to be told, nor 
how much profit was realized in its use. 
The selfishness of rum-selling is proverbial. 
What can any man expect who falls as the 
salesman did, but the same kind of treat- 
ment ? It is part of the business of the 



154 

rum-seller to turn awav from his bar and his 
door the poor wretches he has ruined. All 
he wants is t\ie money, and when he gets 
that he can readily enough turn the cold 
shoulder on his victim. Never was man 
petted, favored and praised by a rum-seller 
more than was our salesman. He was 
treated in the kindest and gentlest manner, 
because he was a good customer. He visited 
the bar frequently, and he brought friends 
with him, and he drank the most costly and 
profitable liquors. His custom was courted, 
and anything that could be done to. accom- 
modate and please him was most readily 
performed. All this while there was money 
to be made in the pursuit. But when the 
money was gone, and the man was poor, 
there was no further use for him. The 
sooner the house was rid of him the better. 
Reader, do you frequent the dram-shop ? 
Beware ! The salesman's fate will surely 
be yours if you continue the practice of 
drinking the best whiskey, or any kind of 
whiskey long enough. And it will not re- 
quire a very long period to accomplish it. 
The salesman run his course in two years, 



155 

Yqu may run longer, but the end is inevita 
ble. Whiskey never elevated a man. 
never caused his rise in society and his hon- 
orable distinction. But it has caused the 
downfall of multitudes. The overthrow is 
certain of any man that walks in the foot- 
steps of the salesman. Never try the exper- 
iment of drinking good whiskey. Never 
try the experiment of drinking any kind of 
whiskey. The extra bottle is extra poison. 
It will accomplish its work of ruin, and 
reduce you to the pitiable condition of a 
beggar for a glass of liquor, which will not 
be given, for the rum-seller is the meanest 
man on earth. He will not favor you with 
two cents' worth of his whiskey without the 
money. Nor will he trust you for it unless 
he is certain you will pay the amount. 

While the auctioneer was selling his fur- 
niture the salesman thought he would drown 
his care by taking a sdass or two of whiskey. 
He went to a low groggery and called for his 
drink, which was immediately delivered to 
him by the bar-keeper, as he was well 
dressed and gentlemanly in his appearance 
and was supposed to be able to pay. He 



156 

drank off the liquor without thinking he 
had no money to pay for it, and when the 
fact was made known the bar-keeper ordered 
a colored man, that was in attendance on 
the house, to put him out, It is the lowest 
kind of a drunkard generally that calls for 
liquor for which he is unable to pay. And 
the bar-keepers respect such no more than 
if they were brutes. The order was obeyed, 
and the well dressed and yet gentlemanly 
looking salesman was thrust into the street 
by the colored man. As he wandered along; 
he was impelled by his burning desire to 
taste another glass, w T hich he obtained in 
the same way, and with nearly the same 
result. He drank ft very large quantity 
each time he practiced the deception on the 
bar -keeper, and it was not long before the 
liquor began to affect him. In fact he was 
soon drunk. He continued to wander in 
his drunken condition until night came on, 
when he was found by a police officer and 
taken to the station house. Had there not 
been an officer there who knew him he 
would have been obliged to have remained 
in the station house all night. But the 



157 

officer who knew him took him home and 
delivered him to his sorrowful wife, who 
received him kindly, and at once proceeded 
to make him as comfortable as possible. 
When the effects of the liquor wore off he 
felt as though he could have hanged him- 
self if the opportunity had been afforded 
him. 

The next morning the subject of our story 
was sober when he awoke, but he felt as 
though he was punished in every nerve and 
muscle on account of his transgression. He 
arose and went into his parlor and sat awhile 
with the windows closed, admitting light 
that was scarcely twilight. lie .sat and 
thought, as well as he could, over his con- 
dition. In a few minutes his wife entered,, 
and in tones of tenderest affection asked him 
if he would not quit his habit of drinking 
and return to his former condition, a sober, 
respectable, useful man. He made every 
promise she asked him, and said he would 
struggle against his propensity and once 
more appear worthy of her affection and of 
the respect of his children. In order to for- 
tify himself against his^ temptation she 
13 



158 

desired him to remain at home for the day 5 
to which he consented. But he broke his 
pledge. He left home, and meeting a friend 
on the street, one who had not heard of his 
recent misfortune, he borrowed fiftv cents. 
as he said, to provide some medicine for a 
sick wife, he having accidentally left home 
without any change in his pocket. In a 
short time after he received the money he 
was so drunk that he fell and hurt himself 
severely. He had wandered near the out- 
skirts of the city and was found by a tender- 
hearted man, who assisted hirn into his 
house and allowed him to lie upon a lounge 
in one of the rooms of his house. There he 
remained until he became sober, when he 
thanked the man kindly for the service he 
had rendered him, and left for his home. 
As he went along the street he asked him- 
self what he should do and where he should 
go. "1 will go home/' said he, u and 
fight this enemy that is destroying me. 
With my wife's assistance I will conquer/ 
His determination was fixed, and he started 
for home. Passing a restaurant he stopped 
and looked through the door, which was 



159 

partially open, and saw the decanters and 
tumblers on the shelves and counter. u One 
more drink/' said he to himself, " and then 
I'm a sober man/' So saying he entered, 
and in a moment the liquor was in him. He 
sat down on the bench in a side room of the 
restaurant and concluded he would wait a 
few minutes and take another drink. He did 
so, and that drink was followed by another 
and another, until he began to feel that he 
was entering upon another fit of drunken- 
ness. He had just enough reason left to 
desire to reach home before he became so 
stupidly drunk as to be unable to walk. He 
arrived in time to enter without assistance, 
but he passed another night of wretched- 
ness, and resolved again next morning, in 
the presence of his wife, that he would resist 
the pressure of the temptation and go in 
search of a situation. The first object, how- 
ever, which it was necessary for him to pur- 
sue was an amount of money sufficient to pro- 
vide bread for his wife and children. He 
made a number of pledges to his wife of 
keeping out of the way of liquor, and started 
for the house of one of the old companions 



160 

of his. evening associations over gocd whis- 
key and the cigar. He went to his friend's 
house, which he entered in the confidence of 
having his immediate necessities supplied, 
and of securing the relief he desired in the 
required provision for his family. His 
friend was at home, and received him in a 
very cordial and affectionate manner. After 
the exchange of the usual civilities, he in- 
formed his friend of his misfortunes in being 
discharged by his employers, and reduced 
to the necessity of applying to his friends 
for assistance. U I have now come here/' 
said he, Ci to beg the loan of a small amount 
of money, say five dollars, to serve me until 
I shall be able to return it, which I hope 
will be in a few days. " The friend heard the 
story with evidences of impatience, and 
when it was concluded he said he would have 
to be excused from the loan, as he had no 
money, and as his business was pressing 
for his attention he had no further time to 
spend with him. He then moved towards 
the door, followed of course, by his visitor, 
whom he bowed from his presence at the 
street door and left. 



161 

"Well/' said the salesman to himself, 
iC this is fine work. To be treated thus by 
my old friend, who enjoyed himself so mucfy 
over my whiskey and cigars. But I've 
learned a lesson. They are summer friends 
that sport with one while the weather is 
warm and the sky is clear, but when the 
winter comes and the storms begin to blow 
they disappear/' 

While pursuing his way, engaged in this 
run of thought, and feeling all the time the 
pressure of his desire for a drink, he met 
another of his old companions, whom he 
accosted. This friend had heard of his fall, 
and affected to be in too great a hurry to 
listen to his appeal for help. Shaking 
hands with him he abruptly left and has- 
tened out of his sight. Ci Again repulsed/ 
said the disappointed man to himself, and 
again the thoughts came up, what shall I 
do ? Where shall I go ? The inquiries 
were answered by a mechanical dive into a 
cellar — an oyster saloon, where they sold 
bad whiskey. Here he drank himself 
beastly drunk, and by some means he again 
found his way home, where he was as kindly 
13* 



162 

received as lie had ever been. When sober 
he excused himself to his wife by telling 
her that he had walked all over the city in 
search of employment but could get none, 
and that having failed in a number of efforts 
to borrow some money for her use, he be- 
came discouraged and took a drink which 
made him drunk. 

The string of lies told the stricken wife 
was believed, and the usual counsel and 
encouragement afforded him in the effort at 
reformation. " Go/' said the unfortunate 
woman, Ci go to the only one that can afford 
you strength to resist this great tempta- 
tion. Go to God in prayer, and He will 
hear you and save you." 

That was the right sort of advice, and it 
came from the right source, but it was not 
heeded by the wretched man. He felt its 
force, but the feeling was only momentary. 
It was not attended, by any purpose of 
amendment. He heard as thousands hear, 
merely by the ear. The** heart was not 
fully impressed nor the' purpose thoroughly 
changed. His reply was, u Yes, clear ; I 
will do the best I can." 



163 

After a couple of hours spent in pacing 
the floor and talking occasionally to his 
wife, the salesman thought it was necessary 
for him to make another effort to obtain 
a situation. The wife was fearful of the 
experiment, and said she had much 
rather he should spend the day at home, 
and become stronger in body and mind 
before he ventured along the streets, where 
there were so many restaurants. This 
advice was not accepted. Then she pro- 
posed to go along with him. This also was 
rejected as very unbecoming. The idea of 
a wife following a husband in his search of 
a situation among business men was spurned 
as ridiculous. 

cc Not half so ridiculous/' said the wife, 
cc as for the husband to visit the restaurants 
instead of the stores, and instead of getting 
a situation to drink too much liquor and 
hardly be able to find his way home/ 

This was a very hard reproof, but it was 
very kindly spoken, and did not give the 
offence it would have done under other cir- 
cumstances. It was finally agreed that he 
should go alone in search of the situation. 



164 



He accordingly started. As soon as lie had 
left the house the wife slipped on her shawl 
and bonnet and followed him at a distance. 
There were restaurants in abundance for 
him to pass, and although without moneys 
he could find out the way of getting the 
liquor. Before one of these dens of ruin he 
stopped as if arrested by some power of 
magic which was irresistible. His w T ife saw 
him in the distance and quickened her pace 
so as to reach him, if possible, before he 
accomplished his purpose. She was success- 
ful. The glass was on the counter and he was 
about to take the decanter and pour out the 
liquor when she approached, and taking 
him by the arm turned him completely 
around before he was aware of it. " Come/ 
said she, ic come, let us go home, this is not 
the place for you/' As she spoke she led 
him towards the door, and succeeded in 
prevailing upon him to return to his home. 
Again the remonstrance was repeated, 
and again the promise was given, and all 
was for the time apparently satisfactory. 
The wife, however, could not always be at 
his side, and when she, after securing prom- 



165 

ise after promise, left liim to attend to lier 
household duties and her children, he 
slipped out of the house and hurried off for 
the purpose of securing a situation. He did 
not pass the first dram shop. He halted a 
moment before it, looked up and down the 
street, and then darted in as if he expected 
to be arrested in his passage. The tum- 
bler and the liquor were placed on the coun- 
ter by the bar-keeper, who looked in chagrin 
and amazement at the quantity of the liquor 
that was poured into the tumbler. It was 
nearly filled, and enough for two or three 
drinks. Before he could remonstrate, how- 
ever, the liquor was in the stomach of the 
salesman. It is needless to say that he was 
soon drunk. There were four restaurants 
in his way, and he entered three of them 
and got liquor, each time a sufficient quan- 
tity to produce intoxication. While drunk 
he hurried off to the store of his former 
employers, where he had performed so much 
service, and maintained, for a time, thehigh- 
est reputation of his profession. He looked 
around with some interest upon the scenes 
of his labors for several vears, and became 



166 

a maniac in the madness that seized him. 
He committed one outrage after another 
until the proprietors of the store determined 
to resist his abuse. Although a thin and 
delicate man he was more than a match for 
two of the clerks, that were directed to re- 
move him from the house. It was not until 
two police officers were procured that he 
was seized and confined. His violence was 
of such a nature that it was considered 
proper to send him to the station house, 
where he remained during the night. One 
of the clerks of the establishment was des- 
patched to his home for the purpose of 
informing his wife what had happened, and 
of consulting with her in relation to his 
future confinement. It was decided that 
one of the firm should appear against him 
and direct his commitment to prison. This 
was done, and while in the jail, the firm 
that had employed him contributed largely 
to the support of his family. 

He was in jail but a few days when he 
was taken quite ill, and it was agreed by 
all concerned in his confinement that he 
should be conveyed to his home for proper 



167 



medical attendance. For four months he 
was afflicted and kept his bed. During a 
part of the time there appeared to be no hope 
of his recovery. His system, however, 
through proper medical treatment, got the 
better of the disease^ and he was gradually 
and slowly restored to health. 

During the period of his convalescence 
he w r as visited by his former employers, 
who were still anxious in regard to his 
welfare, and appeared to be willing to do 
every thing in their power to save him 
from ruin, and his family from suffering. 
While he was confined to his bed by sick- 
ness his wife was driven to the expedient of 
supporting herself by the use of her needle. 
She labored day and night on the hard 
work of the tailor shops, and thereby ac- 
quired means almost sufficient for the sup- 
port of the family. The deficiency was 
made up by the firm in whose employment 
the salesman had served. 

One day, when the patient was able to 
bear it, his wife suggested that a clergyman 
should be sent for, and that an effort 
should be made to direct his mind towards 



168 

tlie subject of religion. One of his former 
employers happened to be at the bed-side 
when the proposal was made, and gave it 
his hearty sanction. Accordingly the cler- 
gyman was introduced. In a second or 
third visit a decided effect was produced 
upon the mind and feelings of the s~ck man. 
Portions of the Scriptures were read to him 
on each visit, and he was affectionately 
counselled to direct his thoughts towards 
the pursuit of a religious life. The effort 
was successful. He became deeply inter- 
ested on account of his condition, and on 
behalf of his family. The thought of hav- 

if O 

ing been the agency through which his 
wife and children were reduced to want, 
and his wife was obliged .to resort to the 
hard labor of making heavy pantaloons and 
coats, in order to provide support for the 
family, was very oppressive upon him. It 
brought him to repentance, and he made 
most determined pledges of amendment, if 
Providence should spare him. 

By the application of medical skill and 
assiduous attention on the part of his wife 
and her friends, he was restored to health, 



169 

when the gentlemen of the firm in whose 
service he had wrought so faithfully and 
wrecked himself so shamefully, proposed 
to re-employ him. The engagement was 
effected, and as soon as he was able to 
leave the house he returned to their em- 
ployment. 

Fortified now by his religious pledges 
and profession, he felt as though, by the 
assistance of God, he could sustain himself. 
The divine assistance never fails those who 
are willing to help themselves. The as- 
surance of its co-operation is on the record. 
It is contained in the Scriptures. That 
record has never yet been faulted. Failure 
has never been successfully charged upon 
it. Grod's word is ever true. The evidence 
of its truth is witnessed in every instance 
in which the subject of its influence per- 
forms faithfully and constantly the part of 
the duty necessary on his part. The read- 
ing .of Grod's Word, prayer, and the per- 
formance of religious duties, are means 
that must ever be successful in the salvation 
of the man. If there be failure it must be 
with him. The agencies of the spiritual 
14 



170 

reformation are ever at hand, and they 
may must be effective wherever the mind 
and heart of the subject are in constant and 
faithful co-operation with them. 

For some time after the recovery of the 
salesman, and while it was unknown that 
he had reformed, and even afterwards, he 
was shunned cautiously and determinedly 
by his old associates. The boon compan- 
ions that had partaken largely of his hos- 
pitality, and drank freely of his liquors, 
avoided him on the street and wherever 
they met him. They were fearful that calls 
might be made upon them for assistance 
in the support of a suffering family. It 
was indeed the case that several of them 
were called upon for trifles in the earlier 
stages of his progress in ruin, and before 
the wife was obliged to take in work for 
support, but in all cases they most posi- 
tivelv refused to contribute to the aid of 
the family of their fallen friend. Some of 
them were very well able to spare the 
small amount desired, but they had not 
the heart to do it, although the appeal was 
made by a delicate and suffering wife and 



171 

on behalf of innocent and starving chil- 
dren. 

It is almost needless for a fallen inebri- 
ate to look for aid to his companions in the 
mean and miserable associations of drinking 
and drunkenness. It is in fact one of the 
most disgraceful features of the drunkard's 
life, that appears in the utter selfishness of 
the parties that were engaged with him in 
his downward career. While he has the 
money to contribute to the enrichment of 
the rum-seller, and to purchase the liquor 
for his associates to drink, he is welcome 
to the bar, and the praises of his drinking 
companions are shouted in his behalf. But 
when'the money is gone, and the man pen- 
niless, he is turned from the counter on 
which the liquor is placed, perhaps kicked 
off the premises, or sent to the station 
house, and despised and shunned, and his 
acquaintance disowned by the creatures that 
were constantly on his trail while there 
was the price of a glass of whiskey in his 
pocket, 

A truly heartless gang are the grog com- 
panions of every unfortunate drunkard. 



172 

While they can possess themselves of the 
liquor, and sport in each other's society, 
they care not where the means come from 
by which their bacchanalian accounts are 
settled. The wife's groans and tears, and 
the children's cries are nothing to them. 
They can drink and shout and swear over 
their cups while they know that the family 
of the man at whose expense they are rev- 
elling, is enduring the greatest privation 
and suffering. Reader, are you the boon 
companion of the drunken crowd? "If you 
are, consider for a moment your condition 
of meanness and degradation. There is 
not an associate of the dread gang that 
secures your companionship and services, 
that would contribute the price of three 
drams to keep you out of the almshouse ; 
and the proprietor of the restaurant who is 
amassing all the means in the possession 
of your gang, will be the first to propose 
that the almshouse shall be your residence. 
Let the dram-seller make the record of the 
wrecks his establishment produces, and the 
tale would ba too shocking to be endured 
by any but himself. 



m 

But I must hasten to the conclusion of 
my story. My friend, the good salesman, 
found his old employers the same kind 
friends thev had been before he was seduced 
from their service by the drunkard's worst 
enemy — good whiskey. They had cause 
to regret that they did not discourage and 
prevent, in the use of more energetic and 
determined measures, the earlier move- 
ments of their friend over the drunkard's 
path. There were occasions when they 
might have interposed, and when perhaps 
a resolute procedure on their part might 
have been of use in arresting his progress 
to the condition of ruin that came upon 
him. The omission to remonstrate and ad- 
vise and enforce the better process, was 
now regretted, and the purpose resolved 
on that there should be no hesitancy in the 
future in such relations should they occur. 
They learned, through their experience, the 
lesson that is ever taught the timid and the 
hesitating, that through their neglect in 
the performance of an unpleasant and pain- 
ful duty — that of warning the subject of 
their interest who is destroying himself as 
14* 



174 

rapidly as the process can be effected, in 
the use of intoxicating liquors. 

It affords me great pleasure to state that 
our friend, the salesman, has recovered 
himself, and is now at his work as before, 
supporting his family handsomely, and 
rendering satisfactory service to his em- 
ployers. His case is singular in his suc- 
cessful recovery. In nine cases out of ten 
of the kind, the man goes down and down, 
until the hovel and the almshouse brings 
him to the halting point ; then the death, 
of pauperism, wretchedness and disgrace, 
winds up his miserable career. 

It is indeed pleasant to look upon the 
happy wife and children of the recovered 
inebriate. Every morning and night the 
family are assembled for prayers, and on 
Sunday morning the children are prepared 
for the Sunday School, and the parents fol- 
low afterwards to the church. It is hoped 
that this happy condition of things may 
continue, and that there may be a long 
life of usefulness and happiness before our 
reformed, and yet excellent salesman. 

It might be supposed that there would 



175 

be some remorse of conscience in the keeper 
of the restaurant who contributed most of 
all to the downfall and ruin of the subject of 
our story. But such is not the case. He 
turns with contempt from his door when- 
ever he sees the salesman passing along the 
street and by his door, which he does every 
day either towards the store or his home. 
While he refused to speak to him when he 
met him, and turned away with evident 
gestures of contempt and scorn, he con- 
tinued to denounce and curse him on ac- 
count of a "drink" for which he said he still 
owed him. When the knowledge of this 
charge reached the ears of the salesman he 
determined at once to call and settle for the 
liquor which he had no remembrance of 
receiving, and could not believe he could 
have ever drank again in the restaurant of 
the man who had seized and sold his furni- 
ture for the sum of ten dollars. Accordingly, 
as he was passing to the store one day, the 
salesman called and asked if he owed any 
amount to the bar. The keeper of the house 
supposed he had come for another glass, 
the first in the renewal of his old habit, 



176 

and lie became as polite and as interest- 
ing as the occasion suggested, and as the in- 
grained hypocrite could render himself. 
The chagrin of the disappointed man may 
be imagined when the bill was paid and 
the salesman turned without the slightest 
appearance of a desire for liquor and went 
to his business. Keader, let the warning of 
this story be heeded. Touch not, taste not, 
handle not the bottle, although it be filled 
with good whiskey. 

u Who hath woe? Who hath sorrow? 
Who hath contentions ? Who hath bab- 
blings ? Who hath wounds without cause ? 
Who hath redness of eyes ? They that 
tarry long at the wine ! they that go to 
seek mixed wine. Look not upon the 
wine when it is red ! when it sriveth. his 

o 

color in the cup, when it moveth itself 
aright. At the last it biteth like a ser- 
pent, and stingeth like an adder/' 



THE WOULD BE POLITICIAN. 



In our country, the form of government 
being republican, every man has a right to 
vote and be voted for. Of course every man 
has the right of enjoying his opinion, and 
of expressing it, provided his opinion be 
not treasonable. In such a form of govern- 
ment, in the varieties of human kind, there 
are persons of all grades of political senti- 
ment, and of all dispositions in the use of 
those sentiments, Among such a variety 
of sentiments and dispositions it is not to 
be wondered at that there should be a great 
variety of political characters. We have, 
therefore, the political preacher, the polit- 
cal doctor, the political lawyer, (all lawyers 
are politicians,) the political merchant, the 
political mechanic, the political laborer, 
and last, though not least, the political 
gentleman. And among all these we have 



IIS 

the political dram-drinker. The political 
preacher has a first rate opportunity of 
working his way among the people. He 
visits among his flock and hears their sen- 
timents, and talks fluently in order to secure 
a free expression from each, and having 
collected all the knowledge he can secure, 
he can tell a good tale from the pulpit and 
deal out his opinions and threats and abuses 
without the fear of being contradicted. He 
can mount the hustings when he thinks 
his country is in danger, and the country 
is alwa3 r s in danger when he wishes to 
make a clash and distinguish himself at the 
town meeting. 

Ci I went to hear your preacher, the other 
night/' said one political mechanic to an- 
other, "and a fine piece of work he made 
of his speech. He says the country will go 
to ruin if the people don't vote his ticket. 
My preacher was there, and he says he'll 
give him beans when he has the chance of 
speaking for his party. He don't believe 
in your preacher's ticket, and I reckon he'll 
tell him so." 

" Well," replied the person to whom the 



179 

remark was addressed, " I was there and 
heard the speech of my preacher, and I 
think both your preacher and mine would 
do much better to stay at home and study 
sermons for Sunday, than to get up on the 
stand at a political meeting and talk non- 
sense. My preacher proved to me that he 
knows very little about politics, and I guess 
yours will convince you by a single speech 
that if he knows no more about theology 
than he does about politics he had better 
quit preaching/ ' 

As I had heard some political preachers 
talking politics and political nonsense to 
the people at town meetings, I could not 
help deciding that the second speaker was 
right. It is the duty of preachers to preach 
the gospel, and not to mount the political 
hustings and make political party speeches. 
They may find as much fault as they please 
with the people for their sins against God 
and religion, and there is enough for them 
to do in this department, without offending 
one-half their congregations, by advocating 
and abusing party doctrines and practices. 
It is said that on a certain occasion, after a 



180 

political party preacher had descended from 
the stand, at a town meeting, he was invi- 
ted to take a drink, and he consented, 
remarking as he went that he was quite 
exhausted/ and a glass of liquor would 
refresh him. A fine example is such a 
preacher for the crowd with which he asso- 
ciates. He is much liked and much ap- 
plauded by his drinking assemblies, with 
which he is frequently found in association. 
If the country is to be saved, it will never 
be done by political, partizan, liquor-drink- 
ing preachers. 

And the political doctor ! What of him ? 
Why, he can talk politics to his patients. 
He can tell them the latest news, and about 
the last political speculation that has been 
started. He carries the price of gold with 
him, and is always ready with his specula- 
tions as to the cause. In most cases, the 
political speeches the doctor makes to his 
patients do them as much good as his pills. 
In his search for intelligence in relation to 
the political market, he has his time so 
much occupied that there is but little left 
for thought on account of his practice. His 



181 

prescriptions are hurriedly prepared, and 
one-half the time he knows but little about 
the condition of his patient, and less of the 
medicine he has been prescribing. The 
political doctor takes his drink without invi- 
tation, and of course, without compunction 
of conscience, and if his patients suffer, the 
cause is to be charged to the politics and the 
liquor, between the influences of which his 
brain becomes so thoroughly muddled that 
he does not know what he is doing. If people 
can believe themselves safe in the hands of 
political party doctors, they may employ 
them, the loss will surely be upon one side 
or the other, oftener perhaps on the side of 
the patient than upon that of the doctor. 
Political pills will not always cure, and 
there is at least a risk of damage in their 
use 

The political lawyer is no article of scar- 
city among any community that needs such 
services as he can render. It is the lawyer's 
business to make speeches. Why should 
he not make political speeches ? And why 
should not a political lawyer be elected to 
office ? He is competent. He knows every- 
15 



182 

thing and a little more. He can talk like 
an auctioneer, fie can drink like a fish. 
He can do anything. He's the very man for 
office. The country is safe in his hands, 
so he says himself, drunk or sober. Indeed, 
if the lawyer, drunk or sober, is to be be- 
lieved, the country is safe in the hands of 
none else. 

The communities of our coiintry have 
tried the lawyers, and they have found them 
wanting, in everything but the collection 
of the fee. In this they are accomplished. 
They can do the work to perfection. In 
some cases they can collect from both sides. 
It is said that the lawyer is pledged to take 
care of his client. The drunken lawyer 
can take good care of his client's money. 
He can take such good care of it as to pre- 
vent the necessity of the client's ever hav- 
ing anything to do with it. 

And what is to be said of the councils of 
the States and of the nation, which the 
lawyers have controlled so long? The an- 
swer to this question is found in the condi- 
tion of the country. If the lawyers have 
controlled the councils of the States and of 



183 

the nation, who else could have brought 
the country to its present unfortunate con- 
dition ? 

Header, iny advice to you is, if you can 
find a lawver who is a sober man, and no 
party politician, employ him, if you are 
obliged to do so. But be sure you think 
well whether you are obliged to provide 
such assistance for your business. In most 
cases, as far as the morality and the honor 
of your case are concerned, you had better 
throw the papers on which it is represented 
into the fire. Tour case is half lost, and 
more than half lost, in the hands of a 
drunken attorney. If you smell liquor in 
the office, or suspect it to be there, take 
your papers home with you, and burn them. 

I know some excellent men that are law T - 
yers, but they are neither drunkards nor 
party politicians. They are not found 
among the brawling multitudes, who are 
in search of distinction and plunder. They 
frequent the great walks of life with quite 
as much interest as they do those of the 
court-house and its vicinity, and they never 
take a case into court if they can prevent 



184 

it. They settle the most difficult cases out 
of court, and save the characters and money 
of their clients by so doing. The lawyer 
that labors to keep cases out of court is a 
rare man of the profession, but he is the 
true friend of his client and of the commu- 
nity. Such a lawyer desires the patronage 
and friendship of the public. 

And what of the political merchant ? 
Does he sell political party sugar and cal- 
ico ? If he does not, he talks party politics 
while he is engaged in selling sugar and 
calico. In thus talking he pleases about 
one-half his customers, while he offends 
the other half. Who cares about the man's 
sectional and party feelings and interests 
while he is purchasing goods ? Who wants 
to hear of the success or defeat of the dem- 
ocrats or of the whigs or of the republi- 
cans, while he is examining the quality of 
sugar or the texture of calico ? 

" What's the news in your district?/ 
said a sugar merchant to a dealer. 

" What kind of news ?" asked the dealer. 

"Whose ahead, Lincoln or McClellan ? 
and how does the price of gold affect the 



185 

people ? and what do the people think of 
the war ? and how do thev like General 
Grant? and when do they think the w T ar 
will end ?" 

The poor dealer was confounded at the 
amount of information required of him, and 
as he did not know which question to an- 
swer first, nor how to answer any of them, 
he simply replied : 

" I am a dealer in groceries, and know 
nothing about politics/' • 

The reply would have been sufficient for 
any one hut an inveterate party politician, 
but it would not answer for the merchant, 
and he asked question after question, as fast 
as he could pronounce the words, until the 
dealer believed his purpose was to confuse 
and confound him, so that he could not ex- 
amine the goods he wished to purchase. 
Not being very well pleased with the posi- 
tion in which the merchant placed him, 
which obliged him either to talk on a disa- 
greeable subject or acknowledge his igno- 
rance, the dealer touched his hat, bade the 
merchant good morning, and left. A few 
such rebukes might assist in curing the 
15* 



186 

party political merchant, or at least they 
might cause him to entertain some few feel- 
ings of respect for his customers, 

"Do you know why Smith failed?' 
asked a wag of another wag. 

"Yes/' was the reply, "he swamped 
himself watching for gold to fall, so that 
he might make a heavy purchase/' 

" You're mistaken," was the rejoinder. 
" Smith failed because he talked party pol- 
itics to his customers on the wrong side. 
He was generally half drunk all the time, 
and his tongue run ten an hour, and no- 
body believed half he said. No customer 
could stand such talk as Smith's.' 

If the merchant had attended faithfully 
to his business, and let rum and politics 
alone, he might have prospered. 

And what a character is the party politi- 
cal mechanic ! He talks while at work of 
the unrighteousness of all the parties to 
which he is opposed, and especially of the 
great political party in the opposition, and 
he vows that he will work night and day 
to put down the tyrants that are oppressing 
the country and producing hard times and 



187 

low wages. Before the time for leaving 
his work in the evening, he prepares for a 
visit to the printing-office to hear the news. 
On his way he stops at the dram-shop for a 
drink, and by the time he reaches the 
printer's he is in a good condition for a 
controversy with any one that may come in 
his way. On the appearance of the news- 
boy he buys the newspaper, and in a very 
few minutes he has devoured the news. 
He must talk to somebody about the elec- 
tion, or the war, or the new constitution, 
or the proceedings of Congress, or the 
President's Message, or something else. 
It does not take him long to convince every 
one with whom he talks how little he knows 
about the topics of the times, and how much 
he desires to be considered a politician. In 
a short time the man of little work and 
much talk begins to imagine that he is 
smart enough to fill an office of some kind — 



almost any kind, and almost any office will 
suit him. He suggests his name to the 
parties in power, and perhaps has it placed 
at the lower end of the list, and then he is 
in for it. He works l<?ss, and drinks and 



188 

talks more every day. The more he hunts 
the office, the more he can't get it, and he 
is greatly surprised that his talents are so 
lightly estimated. He is disappointed once 
or twice every day in not hearing of his 
appointment, when no one has ever thought 
of it but himself, and in his disappointment 
he sometimes becomes enraged with every- 
body, and talks at random about the in- 
gratitude of the government that he has 
done so much to serve, and lost so much 
time in serving. 

There is but little hope for the would-be 
politician who leaves his work-shop in 
search of an office and turns into the dram 
shop by the way. He may waste much of 
his time in hunting the office and never 
obtain it. And if by an unlucky chance 
he shouid be appointed to some insignifi- 
cant position, if he would soberly consider 
his duty he would conclude that he had 
better remained at his business and let the 
office alone. He learns by unfortunate ex- 
perience that the proceeds of the office will 
not support his family, that he has run 
himself in debt in seeking it and is drink- 



189 

ing his way to trouble, perhaps to destruc- 
tion. 

And what caused the mechanic to leave 
his business at which he may have wrought 
for years in contentment, to enter the arena 
of contest with noisy, disappointed, discon- 
tented, and factious politicians? The ques- 
tion is answered in saying that he was 
either crazy, or fond of drinking intoxica- 
ting liquors, or discontented in the pursuit 
of a trade that he had learned in his youth 
and may have followed for many " years. 
Scarcely ever did a man turn from his 
trade in this way to become a politician, 
without regretting that he was ever tempted 
to- the trial. Sad experience convinces him 
that he had better remained at his work and 
labored in contentment for the support of 
his family and himself. 

But there is the clay laborer that talks 
politics and belongs to a party, and desires 
office. His business is too laborious. It 
has become oppressive. It affords too little 
pay. He cannot pay for his whiskey and 
support his family. He must have an 
office. Hours of every day are lost hanging 



190 

about the restaurant and the city hall, and 
In talking on the corners of the streets 
with other men of the same stamp. The 
times are complained of as oppressively 
hard and business as exceedingly unprofit- 
able. No wonder. The times are hard, 
and his business unprofitable because he is 
too indolent or too ambitious of securing a 
small political office, or too fond of talking 
politics to apply himself properly to his 
work and earn a support for himself and 
others depending upon him. It requires a 
little of the pinching of poverty to bring 
him to his senses, and convince him of the 
folly of his course. If he does not become 
a drunken vagabond, and leave his family 
for starvation, or for some other means of 
support, he is quite a lucky man. Poor, 
foolish, would-be city or county officer! 
Oease your folly, and turn in for work. 
Become an industrious man, and seek to 
please your employers, and you will meet 
with much better success and be much 
more respected than you ever can be either 
in seeking a political office or in becoming 
a political officer. 



191 

But who is that little fussy , seedy looking, 
broken down gentleman, that is hanging 
about the newspaper office, and hearing 
and telling the news, and assisting every 
one to read his newspaper, and explaining 
everything that people don't know? He is 
the gentleman politician, or the gentleman 
would-be politician. He can give no ac- 
count of himself. He does not know how 
he gets his living, or how old his hat or 
coat is. His hat allows the hair to stick 
a little way out, and tlie sun to slant an 
occasional ray upon his head beneath it, 
and neither he nor any one else has seen 
the nap on his coat collar and sleeves for 
years. Alas, that nap has disappeared, 
and it has been a long time since he com- 
menced napping in it through the nighty 
first at the dram shop and then any place 
in which he can put himself. He talks 
smartly. Why should he not? He has been 
hanging about the newspaper office and the 
restaurant, reading other people's news- 
papers, and finding out what other people 
knew, until he has become the recepta- 
cle of a large amount of small news. He 



192 

talks fluently about the President and the 
cabinet and the war, and the next steamer. 
He is sometimes Mr. Oracle; that is, when 
he can find listeners. How extremely po- 
lite he is ! He can show the way to the 
best kept restaurant, especially if a glass 
can be secured for his trouble. It matters 
not how often he is troubled in this way 
during the morning or afternoon. He 
works it all pleasantly and complacently, 
and with a countenance covered with smiles, 
especially when the whiskey is in view. 

The prospects of the seedy gentleman are 
not very promising. He can get a meal in 
the market house and a dram in the drink- 
ing house whenever he can find a friend to 
treat, or secure the pennies to pay for his 
purchase, or prevail upon the cook woman 
to give him a bun, or an oyster, or the claw 
of a cooked crab. It happens sometimes 
that he goes a while hungry and begs hard 
for the needed relief. He may work his 
way for a time in such pursuits, but the 
almshouse is not far ahead of him, and he 
is making his way to it as fast as he can. 
How much more a gentleman would such 



193 

f 

a man be if he would find some kind of re- 
spectable employment and earn himself a 
decent living ? The kind of life he lives is 
not only despicable, but it is troublesome. 
It might be mortifying,, if such a character 
was capable of being mortified. If there 
were a work-house, as there ought to be, 
the gentleman lounger with no visible 
means of support, might find an institution 
in which he might be a well-fed and well- 
cared for, though a reluctant inmate. 

Speaking in a general way of the would 
be politician, we may consider him as a 
man in possession of a flourishing business, 
who becomes animated with a desire of dis- 
tinguishing himself among the politicians 
of the day. He hears large talk among the 
free voters of his district and talks largely 
himself until he is so full of the desire for 
distinction that he cannot consent to have 
his abilities circumscribed by his single oc- 
cupation. He must flourish among the 
talkers, and the time that should be occu- 
pied in the pursuit of his business is devoted 
to that purpose. His first advance is to the 
position of a wire-puller. There is distinc- 
16 



194 

tion in this office. The alehouse is the 
place where the wire pullers meet,. They 
learn the wire pulling and the ale and 
whiskey drinking at the same time. They 
are good customers and must sometimes he 
accommodated with a private room. Here 
the flourish is conducted. Speeches and 
the announcement of purposes and threats, 
and the exchange of pledges are freely cir- 
culated, and the ale or the whiskey as freely 
drank. Schemes are projected for finding 
out how the neighbors vote, and if they vote 
on the wrong side, of intercepting the vote. 
In the neglect of his business the man finds 
his business is sliding away from him, and 
that his new profession of political wire 
pulling is ruining him. In the course of 
his career the business so far declines that 
failure ensues, and then the man has time 
to devote to his darling object. The wire 
pulling associates become constant compan- 
ions. The alehouse becomes his second 
home, and he becomes more attentive to his 
second home than he ever was to his first. 
He treats and is treated until his money is 
all gone, and then — then what ! Then he 



* 195 

is left alone in his — not glory , but shame. 
And then who cares for him? Then where 
are his brother wire pullers ? Then who 
quits his company ? Then who kicks him 
out of the bar room? And worst and most 
shameful and disgraceful of all, who suffers 
more than any others on his account? 
Truly none suffer more than the impov- 
erished, neglected, degraded, wretched 
family of the foolish adventurer among the 
wire pulling politicians. 

The political adventurer like every other 
man that treads the path of drunkenness, 
begins his career in moderation. He is a 
moderate drinker. He drinks an occasional 
glass. He drinks for the benefit of it. He 
drinks for the comfort of it. He drinks for 
the excitement of it. He drinks for the 
ruin that follows. Every moderate drinker 
has examples enough before him to be fully 
convinced that his course if persisted in 
will end in ruin. The moderate drinking 
is increased as a matter of necessity. It 
becomes frequent drinking, constant drink- 
ing, and then ruinous drinking. 

Let me ask you, reader, and answer the 



196 

question candidly. Did you ever know a 
moderate drinker that continued a mode- 
rate drinker? Did you ever hear of such a 
drinker? I will anticipate your answer. 
You never knew such a one. If the mode- 
rate drinker continued the use of his dram 
he became the frequent drinker and the 
ruined drinker. There is no preventing 
this result but by discontinuing the drink- 
ing. The most fatal imposition that a man 
ever practiced upon himself is that in 
which he believes he will continue without 
increasing the use of intoxicating liquors. 
As surely as the man increases in years he 
will increase the portion allotted for his 
dram. The result is inevitable. It is in 
the view of every drain seller. It is in the 
view of every dram drinker. It is in the 
view of every man. 

Flatter not yourself, my dear friend, with 
the idea that you can do what no man ever 
did before you, that is, continue a moderate 
drinker. It never was done. It never can 
be done. The moderate drinker is a regu- 
lar drinker and the regular drinker is in 
the high way to drunkenness and to his de- 
struction. 



197 

But I have something more to say of the 
political wire puller. He is the man of a 
party, a political party, and he has the 
work of the political party to perform. He 
has money placed in his hands for the pur- 
pose of treating the honest voters of his 
district. The English of this is, the money 
is to be expended in buying votes, or in 
getting votes in any way. The man en- 
gaged in this business, when he becomes a 
proficient, has to drink as often as he finds 
a free American citizen to drink with him. 
This is a glorious business for the fuddling 
employee, who desires no better office than 
that of buying, bribing, cajoling and de- 
ceiving the sometimes honest, but more 
frequently the ignorant and vicious voter. 
They are the ignorant and the vicious that 
he most of all encounters and most of all 
succeeds in controlling. What sort of an 
account would the wire pulling politician 
render were such demanded of him ? Would 
it not be shocking to the meanest of party 
politicians? Let us imagine how such an 
account would read : 
16* 



198 

Tipple Hall, December 31, 1864. 
Fuddle Club 

To John Smith Jones, Professional Wire Puller, Dr. 

To Cash paid : 

6 drinks for 5 honest freemen and self $2 50 

Cigars, do. do. .-. 50 

Oysters, &c, do. do. 2 15 

18 more drinks, do. do. 7 50 

1 hat, one pocket handkerchief and 1 cravat lost, 5 00 

48 more drinks for 6 honest freemen and self 20 00 

Doctor's fees for attendance on 3 hurt men 15 00 

Services of 2 penitentiary birds, and drinks for do. 1 00 

Taking 2 hurt men home....... , 50 

Damage for spree in grog shop 2 00 

"Washing out blood from bar-room floor 50 

Noisy wife of one honest freeman to hush up 2 00 

Money lost , 25 00 

Confidential expenses 10 00 

Ac't generally, for liquor, oysters, doctor's bills, &c. 26 75 

§121 00 
Cr. 

By cash received from President of Fuddle Club... 120 00 



Balance due John Smith Jones, W. P Si 00 

This is quite a moderate account for the 
amount of services rendered. The fuddling 
was successful as far as the eating and 
drinking, &c, were concerned, but it is not 
certain that six votes were gained by the 
process. The wire puller fared best of all. 
He had the money and he did what he 



199 

pleased with it. He was hired to pull 
wires for other people, but he pulled them 
all for himself. He made a noise in his 
talk and flourished patriotism freely, but 
he knew his purpose and pursued it. 

And who furnished the money for this 
wire pulling purpose? Who furnished the 
money to make men drunk in order to. se- 
cure their votes for the party? Now comes 
the deepest shame of the whole matter. 
Who furnished the money ? The preacher 
gave his share — a very small one. The 
doctor gave his share, quite liberal. The 
lawver gave his share. It made the Indian 
on the American penny yell, the squeeze 
was so tight, before the penny got out of 
his fingers. The merchant gave his share, 
it was a fair one. The mechanic and the 
laborer gave theirs, and the seedy gentle- 
man looked on and sighed. He wanted a 
little for himself, and when he was denied 
he followed the wire puller at a respectable 
distance, and asked occasionally for a drink, 
which he seldom received. Very ungen- 
tlemanly was he frequently treated in not 
being invited to take a glass among the 



200 

political gentlemen who had the funds and 
did all the drinking. Who gave the money? 
Do you see that demure looking professor 
of religion. He is one of the most sancti- 
fied among the long faces. He frowns 
when you laugh. He sighs when you say 
witty things. He looks up, and appears 
to pray when the drunken man staggers 
before him. He gave the money. And why 
did he give it? Why, because he was re- 
quested to do so by the Eev. Moses Tobias 
Agrarian Snooks, the minister of his 
church, who preached long sermons, prayed 
long prayers, gave out short hymns, and 
run away from the church as soon as he 
could get out of the pulpit. 

Reader, what hope have you for your 
country when such games as these are played 
for its freedom? What hope have you for the 
church when its ministers and members 
are desecrating the pulpit and the aisles 
and the pews, by such shameful, such ruin- 
ous proceedings? Don't ask me if what I 
say is true ? Look around yourself a little, 
and you w T ill find that I have only begun 
to tell what is true. 



201 

But what of the demure looking profes- 
sor ? He contributes his money for the 
hire of a man to do what he would not have 
done himself. He hires a man to help on 
the ruin of his country, and pays him for 
the service. He hires a man to sell his 
soul to perdition, and thinks he shall es- 
cape perdition himself. And what of that 
preacher? He is the worst of knaves. He 
knows very well what he is doing. He 
knows that he is practicing deceit, and 
helping on the work of corruption. He 
knows that the course he is pursuing is 
that of ruin to society, to the country, and 
to the church, and he does not believe a 
word of what he preaches about perdition, 
and the loss of the soul. If you had heard 
that preacher when he delivered a temper- 
ance speech for ten dollars, and sent all 
the drunkards of Christendom howling into 
the dark regions, you would have supposed 
he was a true temperance man, and a strict 
religionist. You would have thought he 
was a little too hard on the sinners. But 
with a peep behind the curtain what would 
you think of him ? Perhaps there is enough 
said on this subject. 



202 

But we must follow our would-be politi- 
cian through his career. He began a res- 
pectable business man. He commenced 
tippling when he started out in political 
life. He drank moderately with his friends 
at their political meetings. He was in 
search of an office. He contributed moder- 
ately to the general movements of the party. 
He did more for the immediate circle in 
which he operated, and through which he 
hoped to be elevated to a political position. 
He deserved an office- — a respectable office. 
He would like such a one as was a little in 
advance of some others, but would take a 
lower one if offered him. He spent about 
much money as the office was worth, 
and was insolvent when he was fortunate 
enough to obtain it. Now he was fairly in 
-the political ring. He was an office-holder. 
So elated was he with his success that he 
thought not of the money he had expended, 
nor of his failure, nor of the danger he was 
in of becoming a drunkard and a beggar. 
He provided an office for the transaction of 
his business as a government agent, and in 
that office there were always friends who 



203 

were in office, or out of office, or seeking 
office, and not unfrequently the drink was 
proposed, when all hands proceeded to the 
nearest restaurant, where all drank at the 
newly-appointed office-holder's expense. 
For a time there was pleasure in the meet- 
ings of these friends, and they met as often 
as possible, never without a drink or two. 
There was a small select party that met most 
frequently, and what was for a time remark- 
able, they never met without becoming too 
thirsty for endurance without the drink. 
Some one of the party had to treat, and so 
often did the event happen that the turn of 
each came round very fast. It was not 
lo^g before the office-holder found his pay 
too small for his expenses, and he was run- 
ning in debt. This sort of thing might 
last awhile, but there was ruin some- 
where in its issue. The running in debt 
was one thing not to be endured any length 
of time, and the running into drunkenness 
was another thing which would certainly 
wind up the business thus pleasantly al- 
though unprofitably pursued. As might 
have been expected, the party wound up in 



204 

trouble. The office-holder was obliged to 
pawn his office furniture and some of his per- 
sonal property, in order to keep up appear- 
ances. When turned out of doors by his 
landlord, the higher officials of the govern- 
ment, by whose appointment he obtained 
and held his position, turned him out of his 
office. He was now a common drunkard. 
The members of his family were obliged to 
seek homes among their friends. His wife 
with one child found a shelter at a sister's, 
two of his children were taken home by one 
of his brothers, one was put out at business, 
and another, which was a cripple, was sent 
to an institution established for the care of 
destitute children. The unhappy condi- 
tion of the wife and older children, as may 
be imagined, was that of wretchedness. 
The younger children were not capable of 
realizing their situation sufficiently to be 
as unhappy as those who were older. 

The man himself managed to batter it 
around, as drunkards sometimes do, while 
all who know them wonder how it is that 
they can continue the drunken pursuit, day 
after day, without being brought up at the 



205 

almshouse or the prison. And although 
the creature thus debased may outrun the 
limit allotted him by the most liberal of his 
acquaintances, he must at last bring up 
somewhere. Our office-holder was picked 
up on the street one cold night in a state of 
helpless intoxication, and taken to the sta- 
tion house. One of his brother office-hold- 
ers had compassion upon him, and fur- 
nished him with a bed for the night, and in 
the morning gave him his breakfast, but 
what was to be done with him. He was too 
much enfeebled by his drunkenness to do 
anything for himself. He had scarcely 
strength left to reach the nearest dram- 
shop, nor had he the first penny towards 
the amount necessary to purchase a glass of 
the lowest-price liquor. In pity for his 
person, in its extremity of necessity, it was 
deemed advisable to commit him to the 
almshouse. Here he laid sick for several 
weeks. He was reduced to a frightful look- 
ing skeleton, and when able to move about 
he reminded one of a walking disease. In 
a little time he gained sufficient strength 
to walk over the grounds of the institution. 
11 



206 

None suspected that he would ever think of 
returning to his old habit, especially after 
his experience of wretchedness in its pur- 
suit. He was therefore allowed more lib- 
erty than he would otherwise have enjoyed. 
One evening the man was missing. The 
attendants upon his ward at the almshouse 
supposed he had wandered into some seclu- 
ded place where he had died, and they com- 
menced a search about the premises for his 
body. His body was accordingly found, 
not dead, but dead drunk. He had wan- 
dered into a distant liquor-house, where in 
pity on his forlorn condition, a very liberal 
bar-tender, in the person of a generous 
hearted boy, gave him several glasses of 
whiskey. Full to overflowing, he left the 
dram-shop and succeeded in reaching the 
spot within the almshouse enclosure where 
he was found. He was taken to his ward, 
where every necessary attention was given 
him, and through which he was enabled to 
pass the critical crisis that had very nearly 
carried him off. When he came to himself 
an attendant was at his side, who was much 
gratified at the success of his efforts to save 
him from a drunkard's death. He was 



207 

quite rational, and asked the attendant 
what had happened to him. The informa- 
tion startled him. " What/' said he, u was 
I found drunk on the ground, and brought 
back to this place ?" 

" You were/' was the reply. 

u And I am yet alive, and yet a wretched 
sufferer. I think I had rather died. But 
it is horrible to think of dying out on the 
field, and drunk/' Here he was overcome 
by his feelings, and hiding his face in his 
hands he wept like a child. u I am nearly 
gone/ said he, when he was able to speak, 
cc and before I die I should like to see my 
wife and one or two of my children." 

The attendant promised to do what he 
could to have them brought out to the insti- 
tution . He was as good as his word, and in 
the course of the clav the wife and one of 
the children were brought to his side. 
C( Wife/ said he, when she approached his 
bed, u I am dying. It is all over w r ith me 
now, and I thought I would like to see you, 
and tell you how I have suffered and what 
agony I have felt on account of the trouble 
I have caused you and the children. The 
accursed liquor, and that more accursed 



208 

« 

office, have ruined me. They made a beast 
of me. They wrecked me. They brought 
me to beggary, and you and the children 
with me. I want your forgiveness, but I 
can never forgive myself. I want you to 
know that I die penitent, though my death 
must be horrible, horrible/' 

He could utter no more, but sunk ex- 
hausted on his pillow. When he recovered 
a little his wife assured him of her forgive- 
ness, and desired him to compose himself, 
and think no more of the past, and if it 
was the will of Providence that he should 
be taken, she hoped his departure would be 
peaceful. 

" Peaceful V 3 he exclaimed, repeating the 
word with emphasis. iC Peaceful ! Never. 
There's no peace for me. I'm wretched, 
wretched, and must die a miserable crea- 
ture, a self-destroyer — a suicide. Yes, I 
have destroyed myself, and what is more, 
I must leave behind an affectionate wife 
and innocent children that I have wronged 
and ruined — almost murdered. Mine is the 
end of a drunkard — a drunken office-holder. 
There's no forgiveness for me. I'm ruined, 
ruined, cursed, cursed forever !" 



209 

Thus lie raved, until again exhausted, 
when all supposed the last struggle was 
over, but it was not so. He again recovered, 
and again received the assurance of his 
wife's forgiveness, and again raved in the 
agony of his greatly disturbed spirit. His 
system could not endure the overtask to 
which it was subjected, and he sank into a 
profound slumber, which lasted several 
hours. When he awoke he was a maniac. 
Reason was gone, and he was himself no 
more. He raved in his madness against 
every one that came near him. He im- 
agined that hi£ wife was a fiend sent to tor- 
ture his doomed spirit, and he sprang at 
her with a violence much beyond the 
strength that any one could have supposed 
was left in his system. The wife and child 
were conveyed away from him, and he 
made the ward ring again with his screams 
and ravings. He cursed every friend whose 
name he could remember, and his memory 
was as vivid, and more so, perhaps, than 
it had been for years. His wife he remem- 
bered by her name before marriage, and he 
cursed her by that name in utterances most 
17* 



210 

fearful. Such were his ravings, that it was 
found necessary to tie him down to his bed, 
in which condition he expended his remain- 
ing strength. 

"Man," he exclaimed, looking full in 
the face of his attendant, when he recover- 
ed himself sufficiently to speak, " Man, I 
am lost. The cursed fiends have ruined 
me. Where's the woman that brought the 
last spell upon me? She's gone, but I'll 
find her. She has brought the cursed spell 
upon me, but I'll be revenged ! I'll be re- 
venged ! I shall die, and she shall die 
with me ! I shall torture her spirit forever 
in the torment of — of — yes, of hell !' 

It was impossible to picture the wretch- 
edness of the poor miserable creature that 
had wronged and ruined himself so thor- 
oughly, while wronging and ruining 
those who were once so clear to him. Let 
it be enough to say that he died with the 
most bitter curses on his lips for himself 
and for every one he knew, most of all, for 
the political associates that had helped him 
onward in his career of misfortune, and the 
dram-sellers, that had perfected and com- 
pleted it. 



211 

The day his wife left him was his last. 
His attendant became exhausted at night, 
in his efforts to quiet him, and the assist- 
ance of another was secured. In weariness 
both were overcome, and while in a slum- 
ber, the spirit of the wretched inebriate took 
its departure. When they awoke he was 
dead. Such was the end of a man who was 
possessed of quite an ordinary degree of 
natural ability, had been fairly educated, 
and might have been a useful member of 
society. But the dram was the poison of 
his life. It brought him to drunkenness, 
to ruin, to disgrace, to disease, to madness, 
to death. The consequences were natural, 
as they followed upon their causes. He 
lived the drunkard's life, and nothing less 
could have been expected than that he 
should have died the drunkard's death. It 
was a death of horror, more so, perhaps, 
than is usual, but the end to which he 
brought himself, was what might have 
been, and perhaps was, anticipated by the 
more considerate of his friends. 

Eeader, I have said it was impossible to 
picture the scene of horror that witnessed 
the last struggles of the life of the drunken 

/ 



212 

subject of our present history. No man has 
power to fathom the extent of sin and 
wretchedness to which the man reduces 
himself, who brings himself to such an end. 
And all for what ! Why, for the pleas- 
ure, the mean, the low, the disgraceful 
pleasure of indulging in the dram. Surely 
the drunkard's habit is low and mean 
and degrading. It cannot possess much 
pleasure, but it is succeeded by a degree 
of pain that cannot be expressed. Is 
there no warning in the terrible end that 
drunkenness may bring? Surely there is. 
If a man can properly consider it he will 
never dare to risk its terrible consequences. 
What, die a drunkard — a raving maniac 
from drunkenness ! Only think of it. Be- 
reft of reason. Mad, and imagining demons 
to be the only companions of hours and days 
of torment. Truly this is perdition while 
the soul is in the body, and torturing it 
with its convulsions of insanity and horror. 
What then must be the after perdition 
when the soul has left its wretched tene- 
ment, and gone naked to the deeper torture 
of the fire and the worm — the fire that may 
never be quenched and the worm that can 



21 



o 



never die — the fire that must burn, and the 
worm that must gnaw and gnaw forever. 
Think of it, reader. Think solemnly of the 
curse that intoxicating liquor may bring, 
and shun it as your experienced spirit would 
the wild agony to which the lost is doomed. 
Eeader, are you a preacher, a doctor, a 
lawyer, a merchant, a mechanic, a laborer ? 
In either of these occupations, honestly and 
faithfully pursued, there is a living for you. 
Labor you must, in some pursuit, unless you 
are blest with a fortune adequate to your 
support. In either of the pursuits named 
there are opportunities for advancement. 
You may pursue your way to distinction, to 
honor, to fortune. It is common for men 
to complain of the business to which they 
have been brought up, and to desire to 
change it for some other business.- This is 
one of the greatest fallacies with which 
mankind can be deceived. It is not the 
particular profession that produces the 
dissatisfaction. It is the labor of the pro- 
fession, and if you were engaged in any 
other than your own the result would be the 
same. You would become tired of it, and 
desire to change it. It is the misfortune of 



214 

1 

humanity that it wearies with any employ- 
ment that it is obliged to pursue. Human- 
ity does not relish restrictions, It is natu- 
rally indolent, and would live at ease. 
This is one of its greatest faults. You may 
discover in yourself impatience in the pur- 
suit of the fortune that seems to elude your 
approach, and keep ever at a distance from 
you. It matters not what may be your 
pursuit of life, this is the result. Be con- 
tented, then, in the choice that you have 
made of your profession, and pursue it 
steadily, and honestly, and faithfully, and 
contentedly, and success will surely attend 
you. A half heart and half purpose, in 
any pursuit can only be attended with fail- 
ure. The good Book gives the right exhor- 
tation, " What thy hand findeth to do, do 
it with thy might." God intended that 
the whole power of the man should, be put 
forth in his pursuit of life. Usefulness in 
some one of the professions is duty. Let 
the duty be pursued in the proper way, as 
God has designed it, and success and bless- 
ing must follow. 

I think if you keep properly in view the 
troubles, vexations and disappointments of 



215 

the office-holder, you will not be disposed 
to seek an office. And if you can consider 
properly the condition and end of the 
drunken office-holder, you will never fol- 
low in his footsteps. In the path of the 
would-be politician there is trouble and 
danger. In that of the wire puller there 
is meanness and disgrace. The employ- 
ment is beneath the thought of a respect- 
able man. No man can be a true patriot 
while he is engaged in the occupation of a 
wire pulling politician. While thus em- 
ployed, a man that has any consideration 
in relation to life and its responsibilities, 
must despise himself. He must regard his 
employment among the meanest in which 
he can labor, and himself as the meanest 
of men for consenting to labor in it. 

Let the preacher continue to preach the 
gospel, the work he was appointed to per- 
form. Let him faithfully warn the people 
of all manner of sin, especially that of 
drunkenness, which includes all the sins of 
a vicious life. A man will do any act, he 
will commit any crime while drunk, and 
the warning voice of the pulpit should ever 
and forever be raised against it. Let the 



216 

man of any profession and pursuit, consider 
himself to be a man, and let him avoid the 
meanness and tricks of trade which every 
where disgrace the occupations which men 
follow. Pursue the course of high-minded, 
honorable dealing. In the course of such a 
life there may be labor and many disap- 
pointments, but the labor will be pleasant 
and the disappointments may be endured. 
Perseverance in faithful labor, will surely 
reach its reward, and the faithful life must 
possess blessings which none else can claim. 
Touch not in any case the intoxicating 
glass. Imagine not that you can trifle 
with it, and come off unscathed. A single 
indulgence may be your undoing. Say 
not to yourself that it is only a glass. It 
cannot do much harm, and if it makes you 
drunk it will be soon over. It is only a 
glass, and it is only one drink, but it will 
lead its way to other drinks, and to the 
ruin that follows. 

1 1 Only this once — the tale is told, 
He madly quaffed the poisonous tide, 

With more than Esau's madness sold 
The birth-right of his soul — and died." 

Eisk not the terrible issue of a single 
drink. Remember the admonition. Avoid 
the first dram, and you are safe. 



